


Mark of the Wolf

by scribeofmorpheus



Series: Aligned in Syzygy [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Ancient Evil, Angst, Beacon Hills (Teen Wolf), Blood and Torture, Body Horror, Derek Hale x Reader - Freeform, Druids, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Foreshadowing, Gen, Hunters Being Assholes (Teen Wolf), Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Other, Past Character Death, Reader Insert, Sex, Slow Burn, Supernatural Hunters, Violence, Werewolf Sex, Werewolves, who is the big bad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2019-11-08 04:33:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 53,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17974568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribeofmorpheus/pseuds/scribeofmorpheus
Summary: Dr Y/N Markolf is new to Beacon Hills but not the world of the supernatural, so when she becomes business partners with Alan Deaton in the hopes of leaving her old life behind and start anew, the last thing she was expecting was for Scott to drag a wounded Derek into the animal clinic in search of help. Now the reader has to confront past trauma’s, reveal hidden secrets and somehow find a way to help Derek and his friends fight off an ancient evil that isn’t at all what it seems!





	1. A New Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> This series is still ONGOING! Tumblr [**Masterlist**](https://scribeofmorpheus.tumblr.com/post/185640896300/scribesmasterlist)  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back to posting on A03 again. Remember, if I don't update my work for a long period of time, always check my Tumblr for updates to this series! Also, I haven't read through the earlier chapters in forever, there may be a few spelling mistakes -apologies!

 

 

**PRELUDE:**

Dr Alan Deaton sat in his poorly lit back office at his veterinary clinic, he was reading a piece of paper. It was a formal legal document of partnership for his clinic. Deaton hadn't told many people this, but he had fallen on hard times the past few years and struggled to keep the clinic afloat. Especially, since his extra activities dealing with the supernatural creatures in town had demanded more of his attention than stitching up pets paws.

He read over the contract once, twice, three times. Everything was in order. Better yet the contract allowed him to remain as the official owner of the business. The only changes would be that there would be two business partners involved in running the clinic: himself and a woman new to Beacon Hills. 

The only reason he even agreed to this compromise was because she was the daughter of one of his oldest friends. It also helped that she was no stranger to the weird happenings the likes of which Beacon Hills attracted.

Deaton let out a sigh, though it wasn't from defeat or exhaustion, it was one of new beginnings. He was taking in the new and letting out the old. By this time next week _Beacon Hills Vet Clinic_ would have a second person to run it and share the burden with. Maybe that wasn't such a bad thing after all.

Deaton was distracted from his mindful contemplation by the sound of the landline ringing. He picked it up after two sharp rings: "Alan Deaton speaking," he said calm and clear. The person on the other end of the line was an old acquaintance, a werewolf who needed a druids help. Deaton was never one to turn away those in need, so he asked for the particulars and jotted down their location before hanging up and penning a note to his new partner:

 

_“Dear Y/N,_

_Unfortunately, I will not be town when you get here. I have been called away on an urgent house call. The clinic will stay closed until I return, if anything urgent comes up don't hesitate to call me, I have left an envelope with all necessary contact info in your desk drawer. In the meantime use this opportunity to orientate yourself and get familiar with the lay of the land. Since you emailed about taking inventory I have placed your key to the clinic under the potted plant of the forwarding address you sent me, feel free to make yourself at home._

_A. Deaton.”_

 

With everything in order, Deaton went to the backroom to grab his emergency go-bag and gathered a few extra vials of herbs from the large trunk in his office. Then he proceeded to get into his sedan parked outside and drive away.

 

**CHAPTER ONE:**

The choice to move to Beacon Hills had been a spur of the moment thing brought on by a desperate need for change and a willingness to take on a new adventure. 

You were tired of living under your parent's roof. Ever since the _incident_ , you had needed their stability to help you move past everything, but you felt strongly that now was the right time to get back out there and stop watching life pass you by. 

It helped that Beacon Hills was in desperate need of someone in your profession and that the only vet clinic for miles was open to the idea of a joint business partnership. So now here you were, face stinging from the summer heat due to lack of sunscreen, reading the note Deaton had slipped under your door after unloading your Ford pick-up of most of the moving boxes.

"Key is under the potted plant," you repeated aloud to yourself, making a mental note to retrieve it later. After all the boxes were unloaded you decided to sort out your bedroom, kitchen and bathroom first. Once that was all done you let the procrastinator in you take root. You went to take a shower to help with chase the uncomfortable humidity that layered your skin, leaving more than a dozen boxes unpacked and stacked in a clutter in your living room.

After the shower rejuvenated you, you grabbed the keys from under the potted plant and made your way down to the vet clinic with your work laptop and a box marked _Office Supplies_. 

You had been so busy unpacking and rearranging the furniture in the office to accommodate for two that you almost didn't hear the back door slam hard against the wall. The sound of the door's impact made you start from shock and you cautiously made your way to where it originated from, pepper mace in hand.

"Deaton! Deaton, we need your help! Deaton!" A young man's voice shouted full of panic.

Instantly, you dropped your cautious approach and stuffed your can of mace in the pocket of your shorts as you rushed out to greet what you thought would be a desperate customer with a badly injured pet. The reality was much, much worse. 

You stood, stumped for words, as you saw a young man barely out of his mid-twenties anchoring a much larger, older and more masculine man over his shoulder. The older man was bleeding and badly hurt, his eyes clouded by pain. It looked like he was about to pass out from blood loss. Both men had dark hair, both wore dark clothing and both gave off this intense animal fierceness.

"Who are you?" asked the more lucid of the two men, a double-lined tattoo clearly visible on his arm thanks to his short-sleeved T-shirt.

"Dr Markolf. Y/N Markolf…" Shock still very much present in your voice. You were dazed, you hadn't seen this much blood since...

"Scott. McCall," the boy said hurriedly, "Where's Deaton. I need his help!"

"What happened to you two? You need a hospital or the cops. You're friends in bad shape," you pointed out the obvious as you watched the blood leaking from a well-concealed wound. It made your lungs tighten and head spin.

"No! No hospitals, no cops! Where's Deaton?" He asked impatiently, snapping you out of your daze.

"H- He's out of town. On a call!"

"Ah!" The man slumped over Scott's shoulder let out a controlled moan through gritted teeth, he was fighting with commendable spirit against what must have been skull-splitting pain. You were amazed he was still conscious, let alone on his feet.

"Here-" You brashly swept all the equipment on the metal slab onto the ground with no reservations, "Put him down. I may be able to help." You pulled off your hair tie from your wrist and knotted your shoulder-length hair in a messy updo. Scott regarded you with a blank expression.

"Look, you said no hospital and no cops. Deaton isn't around. So unless you want to stitch up your friend alone, put him on the bloody table and grab the emergency First Aid kit from the bathroom and help me!" You ordered. Scott did as you asked, moving at inhuman speeds. 

While he had his tasks, you slapped on a pair of surgical gloves and tied a splatter proof apron around your front. When Scott returned to the table he did the same, no questions asked, no directions needed. 

_Has he done this before?_ You wondered.

"Hand me the scissors," you outstretched your hand. Scott complied. You tore through the fabric of the man’s shirt revealing the magnitude of his injury. It looked like a bullet wound, and not from a small round either. What was most impressive was that his body appeared to be healing itself, only something was preventing it from completing the job. Something that caused the intruding hole to glow a beautiful purple hue.

"Wolfsbane…" you whispered to yourself without thinking as to what saying that word, in this type of situation, would imply.

Scott's eyes snapped up to meet yours, you lifted your own gaze slower. You knew what they were, and by uttering that word so carelessly, now Scott knew that you knew. Whether that made you friend or foe would be determined at a later hour. For now, the two of you were focused on saving his friend's life.

You returned your eye level to the bullet hole in the man’s abdomen, "Hand me the tongs," you directed and just like before, Scott complied easily. You used the tongs to dig around the exposed, torn flesh in search of the bullet. The man you were operating on made a groaning noise, clearly conscious enough to feel pain.

"I'm sorry," you whispered knowing full well his body would burn through the effects of any painkillers you thought to administer. "Just breathe," you said in as much of a reassuring tone as you could produce at a time like this. The man gritted his teeth, his jaw locked like a steel trap.

"Scott, grab a mouthguard, don't want him to break his teeth!" you urged. Scott followed your instruction and forced his friend to bite down on the piece of flexible plastic intended for canines.

"Here, Derek, bite down on this," Scott told his friend. When his teeth were now spared from grinding against each other you placed your focus back on the man with the bullet wound -back on Derek.

"I need you to hold him down," you spoke to Scott. He, in turn, placed both his palms on Derek’s chest and held him down, "Good. Now, Derek, if you can hear me, I need you to take a deep breath because this is going to hurt like a bitch." You warned. You heard the faint sound of air flushing in through Derek's nose, his chest rising up to twice its size.

You wasted no time and began digging around for the bullet. Derek's grunts and groans were muffled by the mouth guard. Beneath the hum of the fluorescent lights, you caught a glimpse of his eyes: bright blue. Unnaturally blue. They looked colder than Antarctica. Then, you felt something hard where soft tissue should be.

"I got it."

Slowly, precisely, you pulled the slug out of its nestled resting place and tossed it into the metal dish Scott had presented in front of you. The bullet was out and Derek was finally letting the fight inside him die as he slipped into unconsciousness, but it wasn't over yet because the wound still wasn't healing.

"Shit! The wound won’t heal unless we reverse the effects of the poison, but we don't have any Wolfsbane."

Scott's eyes lit up in recognition of something, "Yes we do!" He shouted as he darted back into the office and returned a few seconds later with a perfectly preserved sample of dried Wolfsbane and a blowtorch. 

You didn't bother asking. You took the dried herbs and crushed them in your hands, rolling them up into a collective ball of shavings. You took the powder and smeared it onto the open wound. Scott lit the blowtorch and brought it to Derek's flesh. 

The sound of the sizzling made you queasy, but you bit your cheek to keep from letting the inkling of nausea get the better of you. Derek was shaken out of his unconsciousness by the open flame searing his toned flesh, this time he didn't grunt or groan, this time he let a bellowing cry of pain escape his lips. Towards the end, it transitioned into something that sounded like a whimpering howl.

Scott removed the open flame from Derek's abdomen allowing his friend to finally pass out. You sighed a shaky sigh and Scott let his body slump down onto the floor. He wiped his forehead of the sweat with the back of his hand.

You practically tore off your blood-drenched gloves, a splatter of blood splattering on your exposed white collar as if it were a Jackson Pollock painting. You sighed in annoyance from staining your favourite shirt.

After disposing of the used medical equipment and gloves, you headed to the sink to disinfect your hands. 

You scrubbed and scrubbed until your skin was raw and reddened. The memories you tried so hard to repress through this whole ordeal threatening to make themselves known. You scrubbed harder at your fingernails to distract yourself. 

Scott seeing you in distress, placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. It felt like he was saying _“You're gonna be fine.”_ He didn't know that this wasn't the first time you had watched someone bleed out. The only difference was that this time the man bleeding out actually survived.

"Thanks."

You gave a half nod, paying more attention to Scott's relieved expression through the corner of your eye.

"You know about us, don't you?" Scott asked after a beat of silence. You gave another half nod. Scott didn't press you further, you were grateful for that, you didn't feel like having the 'How do you know about the supernatural?' conversation. Instead, you headed to the cabinet where the tranquilisers and painkillers were kept and grabbed a small vial filled with a colourless liquid and a syringe.

"You know what this is?" You asked Scott.

"Yeah it's a tranquiliser used during surgeries on animals," he answered quickly.

 _Impressive,_ you thought. "Yeah, that's right. Your friend’s body just went through the stress equivalent of a boxing match with Muhammad Ali. If he wakes up before getting a minimum eight hours, give him 5cc's and that should knock him out again. He needs to conserve his strength. Can you do that?"

"Yeah, no problem," he said casually, "By the way, what were you doing here so late?"

"Didn't you hear? As of today, I'm Deaton's business partner and Beacon Hills's newest hire."

***

You were sipping on your fourth cup of coffee while you sat in your office, eyes staring at the unconscious Derek. In all your years you had never seen someone so stubborn that they could refuse to pass out from the pain of a bullet wound. The only person who came close in that department was your older brother, Markus. 

As you had predicted, Scott had had to use some of the tranquiliser to force him back under a mere two hours after you removed the bullet. Afterwards, you had gone home to take a shower and change into clothes that weren't stained by blood. Now it was your turn to watch over Derek while Scott went to his own home to do the same.

You let a yawn escape and stretched your arms to try and soothe your sore muscles and joints. You needed sleep. You motioned to take another sip of your coffee when you realised the cup was empty.

"Oh that's just perfect," you sighed.

You shoved yourself off your desk chair and carried the empty mug to the coffee maker atop the minifridge. The coffee maker was empty.

"Well, that's just great," you put the cup down and peered into the coffee container next to the coffee maker, luckily there were some coffee grounds left, "Thank God," you rejoiced.

You were so focused on making coffee that you never heard Derek stirring about as he slowly began to gain consciousness. When the coffee maker started making that groaning noise which meant it was brewing, you went to check on your patient. Derek was no longer laying on the metal slab and you began to panic as your eyes darted all over the room.

In fluid, quick movements, your arm was pinned to your back and a strong hand wrapped around your slender neck. It wasn't meant to hurt you, only scare you.

"Who are you?" Derek demanded.

You wiggled against his grip, trying to free yourself, "I- I'm the person that dug that metal slug out of your body," you nodded your head in the direction of the small metal dish with a bloodied bullet in it and some stained gauze.

You felt Derek's grip loosen and after a beat he let you go completely. You turned around to stare him down with a disapproving scowl. Derek looked at the bandage on his abdomen and ripped it off effortlessly, the wound had healed completely, leaving no scars behind.

His thick brows furrowed in thought, "How did you know to treat a Wolfsbane bullet wound?" he met your eyes with an icy stare of his own.

"This is Beacon Hills," you answered as though you had lived in this town for years. He didn't buy your answer. Derek grumbled disapprovingly at your unwillingness to tell him the truth. 

Suddenly, his head snapped up and to the side, his eyes squinted in concentration and his claws began to extend out. He spun you around and placed his body in front of yours, shielding you from whatever had caused him to shift defensively. You found it increasingly hard to swallow.

A second later Scott waltzed in out of the dark and Derek eased up. He tossed a small bag at Derek, "I figured you'd appreciate a change of clothes." 

Derek nodded.

"I see you've met the good Dr Markolf," Scott said in an effort to soften the mood, he beamed a smile at you, it was the first smile you had seen all day. "You should thank her, Derek. She saved your life."

Derek didn't say anything, he just unzipped the bag and pulled out a maroon coloured Henley shirt. It was then that you noticed the triskelion tattooed on his back.

"The hunters, what happened to them?" Derek asked Scott as he pulled the shirt over his head and covered up his tattoo.

Scott shrugged, "I went back to try and catch their scent, they masked it. They're probably long gone. I did find this though-" Scott pulled out a medallion and chain from his pocket, "It's probably from the guy you attacked. Do you know what it means?"

The medallion was old, the metal rusting around the edges. In the centre was an engraving of a hand clutching a broken arrow towards what looked like three stars and around the edges was an etching of something written in Latin. Most of the words were rubbed off or rusted over except for ' _Pudicitiam_ ' and ' _Superno_.' 

Dread threatened to consume you as your stomach practically overturned, you had to grip onto the metal slab to steady yourself as the memories of that night came flooding back. Blood. Screams. Someone whispering your name.

Derek looked over the medallion for a few seconds, analysing the engraving and the words, disappointment clearly visible in his eyes, "No." He handed the medallion back to Scott.

"I do," you said with a hint of melancholy. Derek and Scott turned to you with a puzzled look. "I know what it means."

 


	2. Who Are You?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** So this chapter came about faster than anticipated. I never finished the sixth season of Teen Wolf so this fic may suffer from plot holes. Please, OVERLOOK THEM! LOL! Also, I have no idea if Stiles ended up with Lydia or not but there will be some Stydia fluff in chapters to follow because I always liked their playful back and forth chemistry. Otherwise, the only thing to note is that your in-fic last name is **MARKOLF.**  
>  **Words:** 2240  
>  **Warnings:** Some swearing, mentions of a dark past...  Derek giving you the cold shoulder I guess???  
> 

(Gif isn’t mine)

 

 

"How do you know about this?" Derek asked, flashing the medallion your way.

"It's… It's a long story, but I just do," You answered sheepishly.

"We've been trying to identify these hunters for months. Maybe now we can finally be a step ahead of them, for once," Scott said with hope.

Derek exhaled, he wasn't as open minded as Scott. He regarded you with scepticism, his eyes conveying their distrust of you clearly.

"It's a little too convenient, don't you think?" Derek posed.

You looked up in frustration, you knew exactly what he was implying.

Scott seemed to be mulling over Derek's words. After a beat of silence he said, "Derek, she saved your life. Do you really think she would have gone through the trouble if she was working with them?" The way he said 'them' carried an ominous undertone, it made you shiver.

"Yes! I do. If her goal was to gain our trust," Derek said with a snarl.

You shook your head, annoyed at this entire conversation, "Look, I just work here, okay. Next time barge into someone else's office with a gunshot wound and see if they'll be as complacent as to perform minor surgery on you. Scott said no hospitals and no police. Guess what, do you hear any sirens? As for the medallion, you may not believe me, but I assure you it's just a coincidence that I know anything about it."

"What about the Wolfsbane?" Scott asked softly, not trying to upset you any further. Derek's eyes bore down on you like sharp blades. You felt cornered.

"I- I knew someone like you once. He… he," you couldn't bring yourself to finish your sentence. You took a deep breath and tried to swallow to keep your voice from cracking under pressure. You continued: "He was attacked by someone wearing a medallion just like that. They used weapons laced with Wolfsbane too. Except then it was an arrow. That's how come I know about it."

Derek grumbled, unsatisfied with your vague explanation. Whereas, Scott seemed to accept your answer and moved on passed the unofficial interrogation.

"Can you tell us what it means?" Scott asked as he grabbed the medallion from Derek and handed it to you.

You took the medallion in your hands, feeling the weight of the nightmares it carried inside. You let out a shaky breath. Besides the obvious markings, you analysed the medallion further, flipping it numerous times. There were no other discernible markings besides the ones you had eyed earlier.

"See these words?" You showed them the etchings, Scott nodded and Derek wore an unreadable expression, "Well, it's written in Latin. This word, _Pudicitiam_ , it means purity or something close to it anyway. And this word, _Superno_ , it roughly translates to the supernatural."

"Wait," Scott said with a confused expression, raising his hand, "Are you telling me these hunters aren't human?"

"That would explain why the owner of this medallion was able to get up and walk away after I attacked him," Derek said.

"I mean, that does make sense, but why hunt your own kind?" Scott asked completely perplexed by the notion of supernatural hunters hunting other supernaturals.

"From what little I was able to uncover about this sect is that they're extremists. They believe that for the supernatural world to thrive they must rid it of the weak amongst them. That way the strong prevail and bloodlines can get stronger with each generation," you revealed. "But, I'm not a hundred percent certain. I had sought an expert on such matters but all he had to offer was a book of folktales and myths and something about a secret war."

"What secret war?" Derek finally spoke.

"Just your usual _Us_ verses _Them_ kinda secret war," you said in exasperation. "That was all I found out."

"Does this group have a name?" Scott asked.

"If they do, it's a close kept secret. I had discovered mentions of a group of hunters spread throughout history who possessed an emblem similar to this medallion. Because of their weapon of choice being arrows, they were called the _Order of Sagittarius_ ," you explained. “I believe they may be the same group of hunters.”

"This expert you mentioned, he got a name?" Derek asked.

"Y- Yeah, Dr Ian Tennyson. He's a retired professor of history who specialised in folklore. He lives out in Lackawanna County. I have his address in my diary somewhere."

"Shit! Lackawanna is across state lines. It wouldn't be wise for you to leave Beacon Hills, the police still think you're responsible for the string of murders committed by this… Sagittarius group," Scott pointed out to Derek. "At least here, Sheriff Stilinski can give us a heads up if anyone comes looking for you."

Derek ran his hand over his face in dissatisfaction. He didn't like hearing what Scott had to say, but at least to your eyes, it seemed he agreed with them. Even if he wasn't comfortable with sitting on the sidelines.

"Wait, you're wanted for murder?" You said in shock. Your heart threatened to jump out of your chest. Today was turning into quite the stressful affair. All of a sudden the gears were put in place and you remembered why the triskelion tattoo had entranced you earlier. You had seen it on news footage about a manhunt in California. Now you knew who it belonged to.

Derek eyed you under thick lashes and sighed, "Alleged murder. And no, I didn't do it. I just happened to be present at the crime scene of one of the first incidents involving this extremist sect of yours."

You barely knew either of these men, but for some reason, despite the prickly tension you shared with the perpetually brooding Derek, you believed them. After all, what reason had they to lie?

"There's only one problem," you informed them. Derek and Scott looked at you, fully attentive and bracing themselves for what was undoubtedly more bad news, "Ian is a recluse. He suffered some injury a few years back and ever since he has been a little paranoid. He won't be so welcoming to strangers."

"Then how did you get him to open up to you?" Scott asked.

"My brother was a student of his, back when the professor taught at Penn State."

"So the only way we get to talk to this supposed expert is if we bring you along?" Derek asked rhetorically. You didn't bother responding to his snarky comment.

"I may have an idea around that," Scott offered. "We could ask Stiles to go. He is heading up your investigation anyway. He has access to the case files and would probably have an easier time getting this recluse to talk. That way we don't have to drag Y/N into all this."

You crossed your fingers behind your back, not wanting to be dragged back into the life you had sworn to leave behind. You came to Beacon Hills for a fresh start and getting mixed up with extremist hunters, unsolved murders and werewolves were not on your agenda for the month.

Derek seemed to be enthusiastic about Scott's compromise and snapped his fingers in agreement, "Yeah, let's do that!" 

You let out a breath you didn't even know you were holding in, oxygen flooding through your system and untangling the nerves in the pit of your stomach, undoing the tension in your muscles.

"We should leave, it's nearly sun up and it's best to keep my presence here under wraps until I can prove my innocence," Derek added. Scott agreed with a simple nod and thanked you before retreating into the greying darkness slowly being broken away by first light.

As Derek turned around to follow suit, he cocked his head to the side so you could only see half the profile of his chiselled face. He looked like he had been carved by the pantheon of the Greek Gods themselves. In the right light and with the glow of his bright blues, Derek could entrap a breath within anyone's bosom and cause them to flinch from the intensity of his gaze, it was white-hot despite the stare being as cold as ice.

"Don't tell anyone about what happened here," he warned, "And… Thank you." His words seemed apologetic for the way he had treated you with such animosity, but you understood where he was coming from. The life he led, one of secrets and shadows and living one moment at a time, was not an easy one. Or a trusting one. He may have looked softer and less rigid, but he hadn't shed his prickly and guarded front. He still didn't trust you, which bugged you more than it should.

"Just… Promise not to come barging in here bleeding half to death and consider us even," you joked half-heartedly. You heard a rumble from deep in his throat and suspected that was as close to a laugh or break in his serious outward persona you were going to get.

When you were finally alone you tried to continue taking inventory, hoping being entrenched in a rudimentary task would distract you from thinking about what had transpired. Your effort, valiant as it was, bore no fruit. So, defeated, you hopped back into your pick up and headed back home for a much-needed nap and maybe an hour-long phone call with your mother to listen to her chatter on about the gossip of your hometown to drown out the anxious nerves and skittering thoughts that screamed at you. It seems your life was destined to never go down the normal and boring route after all.

***

"Where did you get this lead?" Stiles asked Scott over his phone. He was seated at his small desk in the FBI offices in San Francisco. A picture of him and Lydia on one of their vacation trips decorating his cluttered desk. He was looking over a case file labelled: _Un-Sub, Beacon Hills_. It was Derek's case file, he knew that, but he wasn't going to tell his superiors he knew the suspect of the string of murders currently plaguing California.

"Completely by coincidence. A woman named Y/N Markolf. She's the new co-owner of the Vet Clinic with Deaton," Scott replied. He began to ramble on about how he couldn't believe Deaton hadn't told him he had sold half the clinic to someone else and that he was not so keen on being dragged into this entire mess as soon as he got back for summer vacation.

At the mention of the woman's name, a part of Stiles's brain began to gnaw at him. He recognised it from somewhere. He pulled out a file box from under his desk and began to sift through countless case reports pertaining to Derek's case.

"Hey, Scott, can you run me by that name again."

"Uh- Dr Y/N Markolf. Why?"

"I think I've seen it somewhere before."

Stiles continued to flip through case folders until he came across one named _File JH50-A, John Doe, New Hampshire_. He flipped through to the Eye Witness Accounts section and skimmed the summary highlights: _Man attacked by Un-Sub, after a full moon, used a compound bow, girlfriend of deceased described the perp of being in possession of a medallion, no medallion was found at the scene, name of girlfriend was listed as Y/N Markolf._

"Scott, that doctor, her boyfriend was one of the first victims we ever investigated," Stiles said with a hint of disbelief, "The fact that she would be linked to two attacks perpetrated by this group is…"

"One hell of a coincidence," Scott finished for him.  

"Yeah… I'll try and get permission to check out this professor in Lackawanna County, until then-"

"I'll make sure Derek doesn't do anything hasty or draw unwanted attention to himself. Don't worry, he's being careful."

The worry ebbed away at Scott's insistence that they were being careful. Stiles didn't need more stress as it was, his hands were already full with trying to secretly prove Derek's innocence why heading the very same investigation against his friend (though many didn't know of their relations to each other).

***

Derek was back at the Argent bunker. He hated it here. It was cold and smelled of damp and he missed his loft. He had been forced to take shelter underground since the investigation against him had begun. 

He sat on the cot by the wall and took off his shirt. He glanced down to where the gunshot had previously been and grazed the skin with his fingers. He could have died last night. He probably would have if that doctor -you- hadn't been there. 

If you hadn't been so willing to help him. 

A part of him hoped you weren't what he feared you were. 

He thought you had a warmth about you, but all the while he could sense an air of dread permeating around you like an invisible cloud. Even if you weren’t a threat and were exactly what you claimed to be, Derek knew you were hiding some dark secret behind your enchanting eyes and powerful voice.

He sighed and stretched his arms over his head before he lay back down onto the bed. He was moments away from slipping into a much-anticipated slumber before his phone chimed. He groaned as he picked himself off the cot and walked over to the table he had perched his belongings atop. He unlocked his phone and read the message from Scott:

_“Stiles will try and talk with the professor. You were right. Dr Markolf was hiding something. Stiles will email you the case files.”_

Some days Derek hated being right. Today was one of them.

 


	3. Badges are for Breaking and Entering

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** This is the chapter where the lore is established and we get to see Stiles at work. Not much interaction between the Reader and Derek, but I have noticed a pattern of how all third chapters of my fics are world building chapters! Also, STILES BEING THE FBI AGENT WE ALL KNEW HE’D BE! **Remember: the readers last name is MARKOLF**  
>  **Words:** 2458  
>  **Warnings:** Maybe some Mature Language? Breaking and Entering FBI Agent Stiles!  
> 

_(Gif isn’t mine)_

  


Your alarm woke you from your half slumber, it had been increasingly difficult to get a good nights sleep. You had failed to quiet the agonising screams in your head since the night Scott and Derek burst into the animal clinic, trailing blood all over the floor.

You groaned as you forced yourself out of bed to take a shower and run a brush through your unruly hair. Breakfast had tasted bland and the coffee did nothing to shake the fatigue away. You yawned the entire drive down to work.

You were surprised to find the clinic already opened for the day.

"Hello?" You asked the open space, a slight echo rippling through.

"In the back," a male voice answered.

You followed the voice. It led you to the office space where Deaton was sorting through his trunk. The floor was littered with various herbs kept in glasswares with labels of each species classification in Latin.

"I see you had quite the eventful week while I was away," Deaton didn't remove his eyes from the trunk, "I'm pretty sure my letter said to 'get familiar with the town'. Raiding my Wolfsbane supply and treating werewolves of bullet wounds isn't exactly what I had in mind." A soft smile took over his face as he looked up at you through his reading glasses.

You were about to ask how he knew about your performing minor surgery on Derek but Deaton beat you to it by explaining: "Scott called. So, I suppose you are the newest to become witness to Beacon Hills's own special brand of normal."

"Ah, now you see that-" you circled your finger around the trunk and scattered glass vials on the floor, "that is exactly what I hoped to avoid by moving to a new town. Turns out this stuff just has a way of following me around. Markus would have a field day if he ever heard about this, he swore up and down I'd never travel far enough to get away from this stuff. He was right." You said woefully, taking a sip of coffee from your thermos.

"Some people are destined to live a life more superior to those of the mundane," Deaton made your life sound like some poetic Edda.

"It's not like I had a say in the matter. Maybe next time I should hang a neon sign that says 'Supernaturals Begone!'"

Deaton laughed at that, lightening the mood a little.

"How's the family? I haven't seen your father in almost five years. To be honest I was surprised when you made the offer to partner up with me and move to Beacon Hills. Seemed a little out of the blue."

You took your side strap bag off and sat down at your desk, turning on the computer and placing the thermos down, "The family is good. Mom and Dad finally moved to the estate, away from the city. Fresh air, no neighbours, the quiet, it's paradise for them. Markus and Jonah moved in with them too, tons of free roaming space. And Esme got engaged, moved to the city, she's working as a professional dog trainer," you giggled at the irony, so did Deaton. "And they were all sad when the runt of litter moved away to work with a certain veterinarian in California," you continued, swivelling in your chair as you waited for the log in screen to load.

Deaton made a humming noise, "Glad to hear it."

***

Stiles was a little jittery from all the energy drinks he had on the plane, now he was barely able to keep his hands from shaking from all the caffeine in his system. The drive to the professor's house was winding and uncomfortable from all the potholes that riddled the old tar road that needed more than the odd patch job. To make matters worse the rental was an old model Corolla with uncomfortable seats that made his spin sore.

When he reached the last known address of Professor Ian Tennyson he was greeted by a metal gate adorned by various coloured padlocks and metal chains. It looked like some modern art piece rather than a paranoid nut job's idea of securing his gate from unwanted visitors.

"Guess this guy isn't too big on company," Stiles said to himself as he got out of the car to examine the locks, "I mean seriously, could he need any more locks?" he asked no one sarcastically.

Stiles began looking around for another entrance or an intercom to announce his presence, after feeling the gate posts for anything out of the ordinary, he felt a small speaker box hidden beneath overgrown vines. He pressed the call button several times in impatience.

"Come on, come on, come on!" Stiles said with impatience. Stiles kept pressing the buzzer repeatedly with no breaks and the buzzer just kept ringing and ringing. After a good two minutes of this ritual, Stiles decided to throw caution (and etiquette) out the window and hopped the fence.

"Boy, those Padlocks made all the difference," Stiles jested as he slid his computer bag under the gate before he hopped the fence easily, although his shoe did get stuck in a hole in the metal grating and he slipped, coating his work suit in brown dust. "Shit, I just got this dry cleaned!" He slung his bag over his shoulder.

The walk to the house took forever and Stiles was practically heaving from exaggerated exhaustion. He knocked on the door a couple of times, but there was no answer.

"Hello, Professor Ian Tennyson?" Still no answer, "Hello, anybody home?" Stiles peeped in through the mail slot, the house was quiet and empty.

"Did he go on vacation or something?" Stiles wondered aloud. "Well, like they say: when in Rome," Stiles reached into the hidden pocket in his suit jacket and pulled out a lock pick set. He jimmied with a door for a second before it unlocked and the door creaked open, very loudly. Stiles cringed at the obvious noise.

He walked into the house on tiptoes, but that made no difference since the floorboards still creaked from the contact.

"This is fine, it's not like I'm committing a crime or anything. Yeah, this isn't breaking and entering at all," Stiles tried to reassure himself. The house was coated in dust like it was a second skin, Stiles's nose tingled from the musty smell of it, the house was old and large and every wall was seemingly filled with some historic artefact, famous replica or row of bookshelves filled with heavy hardcover books.

Professor Ian Tennyson was undoubtedly a collector, he had probably been building his collection since youth, maybe even further back, it wasn't entirely impossible that this collection could have been passed down from generation to generation. Most of these artefacts and books appeared to have one thing in common, they were all centred on or around folktales, legends and myths about the supernatural.

"Wow, Ian, eccentric doesn't even begin to cover it," Stiles whistled as he passed a glass case filled with medieval weapons. He pushed open two sliding doors to be greeted by a room in disarray: there were papers scattered everywhere, an overturned desk, some shattered glass and lamps and a big gaping hole through a large window that let in a cold draft. It looked like someone had been through a struggle, and put up a hell of a fight too.

"Well, I guess we know why you weren't answering the buzzer earlier," Stiles heaved a sigh and dropped his bag.

***

"What do you mean she isn't what she seems?" Derek asked Scott. The two of them were seated around a table in the bunker, they were waiting for Stiles to call about his findings on Professor Ian Tennyson and what he had to say about the Order of Sagittarius.

"Stiles recognised her name or something from an old case file, turns out she was witness to one of the first murders committed by this group of hunters we've been tracking. That's how she knew about the medallion," Scott explained.

"Are we supposed to believe that her showing up here, the same time those hunters nearly killed me, is just a coincidence?"

"No. Maybe. I don't know."

Suddenly the laptop on the table lit up as it was receiving a Skype call, it was Stiles. Scott clicked 'Accept' and Stiles's image showed up on the screen. He was standing in a messy office, the window behind him had a large hole through it and the bookshelves were covered in dust. Stiles was sitting on a desk surrounded by many open texts and loose papers.

"Scott. Wanted Felon. How are we doing?" Stiles quipped.

Derek rolled his eyes and sighed, "Alleged felon," he corrected.

"What did you find out?" Scott asked.

"Well as you can see from how nice and clean and tidy this place is, and the fact I'm sitting here with my new pal, Ian," Stiles raised his arms, gesturing to the mess around him and empty space before him, an obvious sarcastic remark, "I found out a whole lot."

"Now isn't the time for sarcasm Stiles," Derek pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

"Okay there, Sour-Wolf. No, but seriously, I actually did manage to dig up quite a bit of information. This professor left all the reference books open on the right pages, I barely had to try to find anything useful. It's all just laying around here for anyone to read. Which probably means he was kidnapped, but that's a problem for the Lackawanna County Police… Or you know, I can add it to the roster of already impossible things I have to do," Stiles rambled.

Derek glared daggers at the computer screen at being called Sour-Wolf. Scott tried to keep from smiling from amusement at such a tense moment.

"And?" Derek asked, unamused with everything unfolding. He folded his arms over his chest.

"I've looked over several books in the last hour and from what I can piece together, they all speak about some ancient war that has been waged in the shadows. There are illustrations of wolves fighting other wolves, some creepy mouthless dudes that look like that assassin Peter killed years ago, what looks like a Kitsune and is that… a Chimera? Anyway, this is what the book says: 'for centuries this group of hunters, called the Venatores,' which is Latin for 'Hunter' I think, 'sometimes referred to as the Order of Sagittarius, hunt others of their kind in times of abundance and are heralded as keepers of balance.

"'They emerge after long periods of inactivity and usually carry out their sacred duty in a mass cleansing that takes place over the period when the archer undertakes the great hunt.' I think that is talking about when the constellation is visible in the Northern Hemisphere, which just so happens to correspond with when these attacks began. By my calculations, that’s between June and September. 'Those hunted by the order are given the name Ex Alia, derived from the Latin phrase which means: apart from.'

"This is interesting..." Stiles paused for a second as he read over a new paragraph on a different page, "It says: 'The Venatores were once considered purists because they hunted their own kind, but in actuality, their origins came about after an ancient power cursed them with the responsibility of preventing the Second Coming.'"

"The Second Coming, what is that?" Scott inquired.

"Oh, gee, I don't know Scott, my whole plan was to hook you in with something that sounded ominous and then leave you high and dry with no answers as to what it may be," Stiles wise-cracked.

Derek rotated his hand to hurry their exchange of banter along, "Today would be great, Stalinski," he urged the smaller man on the computer screen.

Stiles fixed his attention back on the book and skim read through two pages before his face lit up in a Eureka moment, he clapped his hands in excitement, "Here it is! Okay, the book says: 'The Second Coming is believed to be an event of cataclysmic proportions that will bring forth the Great Swarm and all under the moon and the cover of night shall be victim to its malice once more.' That's it. That's all it says." Stiles said with great disappointment, the excitement slowly draining from his eyes.

"I committed a chargeable misdemeanour for a ghost story about locusts?" Stiles admonished himself under his breath in hopes his friends wouldn't hear him through the computer speakers. No such luck, Scott and Derek's keen senses picked up on it instantly.

"So you think they killed Dr Markolf's boyfriend because it would stop some… apocalypse by locusts?" Scott asked, completely baffled.

"That doesn't explain how they choose their victims or why I'm a target," Derek said with a confused expression.

"Maybe they weren't after you," Stiles hypothesised.

"Oh, yeah, I'm sure the bullet that was lodged in my gut the other day was intended for one of the many dangerous tree trunks behind me, Stiles. You've cracked the case!" Derek snapped with his own dose of sarcasm.

"Stiles might be right. I mean, they only came after us _after_ we started meddling in their affairs. It could be they were just trying to get you out the way… or scare you," Scott said.

Derek paced the floor for a few seconds, brows knitted together tightly in thought. Without as much as a peep, he about-turned towards the exit and began making his way to the doors, Scott and Stiles looked at him completely puzzled.

"Where are you going?" Scott asked Derek.

Derek stopped mid-stride and turned around very slowly, his expression unreadable. The dark clothes he wore were practically melting into the darkness of the bunker.

"To get some answers. I have a feeling the good doctor isn't being completely forthcoming about her encounter with these hunters," Derek's eyes glowed blue, a stark contrast to the blackness of everything around him.

The sound of Stiles gulping rippled out through the computer speakers and Scott looked like he was about to protest, but the light above the table flickered on and off, temporarily soaking the room in darkness, and when it turned back on Derek had disappeared.

"He's probably going to kill her, isn't he?" Stiles asked Scott, the question was trivial, a poor attempt at easing the tension. Scott in response simply shook his head and let out a puff of air in exasperation at Derek's lone wolf attitude.


	4. The Arrow Whistles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** So I realised I had finished writing this and just forgot to edit and post it. I’m in a rush so there may still be a few mistakes. Also, I’m not sure if the show actually established that werewolves can take on emotional pain too so I took the initiative and voila, another chapter! Good news is I’ve written up a timeline, so now I don’t have to spend hours trying to remember what I had intended to write!  
> 
> 
> **Words:** 2351  
> 
> 
> **Warnings:** Mature Language, Violence, Dark past  
> 

(gif isn’t mine)

 

It had begun to rain and thunder and not feeling particularly up to getting soaked you busied yourself in your office until the rain would show signs of letting up. Just as one of the more vibrant flashes of lightning struck, the power went out and you started from freight.   


You searched around for your phone and just as you felt something rectangular and familiar in size, thunder followed and another flash appeared in your peripheral. In that instant a pair of blue eyes became visible from the entrance to your office, they were glowing in the darkness. You screamed out loud, your voice muffled by the rain and thunder, your heart in your throat. Suddenly, the power came back on and the eyes were revealed to belong to Derek.

"Jesus!" You exclaimed. Your hand was placed over your heart and you leaned further into the desk to get your bearings. You eyed Derek under your lashes, not at all appreciating his dramatic entrance. "You nearly gave me a heart attack! Ever think of knocking? Maybe tie a bell around your neck or announce yourself when you walk into dark offices in the middle of the night." You chastised him.

The uncomfortable feeling of adrenaline sending shockwaves down your spine brought with it a sensation of nausea. You closed your eyes and took a breath to chase the feeling away. It worked, partially.

"First, it's barely a little after eight, no need to exaggerate and second, I don't have control over the weather or the electricity," Derek remarked like a smart-ass.

"I wouldn't put it past you."

"You barely know me."

"I know enough."

Derek chuckled, but it wasn't light or humorous, it was dark and void of emotion. He was trying to shake you up and you knew it. He was here for something, something important since he couldn't wait until sun up.

"Why are you hear? Someone else decide to shoot you with a wolf’s-bane laced bullet because of your bad bedside manner?"

"Hardly, I came here for answers."

When you didn't say anything, he continued, "Someone went to check out that lead you gave us. Professor Ian Tennyson? Yeah, he's missing, probably dead, but he left enough of a trail for us to piece together some idea of who these Order of Sagittarius are. What I don't understand is how they choose their targets, but you do, don't you?"

"No. I don't. I already told you everything I know," your heart was racing and the inside of your palms began to sweat, unable to maintain your balance you decided to lean your full weight on your desk to keep your knee from jutting.

Derek's head cocked to the side, he looked like he was focusing on something. Shit! You knew exactly what he was doing, he was monitoring your heartbeat. Damn werewolf senses. You thought you saw the beginnings of a smile spread across his lips, his abnormally prominent canines in full view.

"You're lying, I can tell. You know I can tell."

You knew deflecting wouldn't work, you also knew lying was out of the question. The only options you were left with was telling Derek to piss off and take his grumpy mood with him or consider helping someone in a similar situation you had suffered through. The idea of your involvement making a difference this time around made you feel more open to talking about what happened that day, even to someone as cold and demanding as Derek.

As though he noticed the change in your emotional state, Derek backed off and softened his fierce gaze, opting to walk into the light and lean against the door frame in a less imposing manner. He was trying to make you feel safer in his presence. At the very least it helped slow your fast-paced heartbeat, driving away the electrified feeling of adrenaline from your spine.

"What do you think I can help you with that Professor Ian's expertise couldn't?" You asked when you felt slightly calmer.

"We know you were witness to one of their attacks, you said as much, which means you must have some idea as to how they choose their victims," Derek said.

Your jaw clenched and eyes narrowed, you didn't like talking about this, discomfort clearly showing in the way you held yourself.

"I told you, they hunt those they consider weak."

Derek's brow furrowed, "Not according to Ian's texts." You looked at him in confusion, he ducked his head, raised his hand and looked at you with a let-me-explain look, "Apparently, that was a common misinterpretation. If anything they are more closely described as being keepers of the natural order. Why did you think they targeted the weaker of my kind?" Derek asked. The intensity he carried with him before ebbing away, replaced by curiosity.

Your chest began to constrict despite your efforts to force your airways open. The large breaths of air you sucked in did nothing to unknot the tightness in your chest. You weren't feeling uncomfortable or threatened anymore, instead, you felt panic travel through your veins at the thought of having to relive that horrid day. Tears filled the brims of your eyes and you fought nobly against the panic attack that kept poking at the blank spaces of your mind.

You weren't keen on putting yourself through such emotional turmoil again, but you had convinced yourself that maybe by helping them understand the motivations of the Order, or even give them a new clue to go on, it would help ease your conscience.

"Alex and I," saying your ex-boyfriends name out loud after so long had been difficult. The way the letters rolled off your tongue felt strained and prickly, like pop rocks crackling against a fresh cut on your tongue. You flinched unintentionally when Alex's face popped into your head.

Quiet filled the room and Derek, despite seemingly feeling uncomfortable about it, urged you to keep talking, "Alex, was that his name? The person you saw get killed by…" Derek didn't finish the question, he saw how much discomfort it brought you. You nodded hastily, your hair hopping about from the swaying force.

"Alex and I were camping in New Hampshire with his pack…" You had to rethink your choice of words, but when no alternative presented itself, you decided to try and explain it better. "Pack isn't the right word actually. They were a group of omegas. Run-aways and misfits. They didn't belong anywhere, and somehow they found each other and formed a bond over the years. There was no alpha you see, not in the conventional sense. A- Alex was the one they looked to, to make the har--" Your voice was beginning to crack.

Derek kept listening, waiting for you to find the words on your own time. It should have bothered you that his eyes never blinked once, it didn't, if anything they seemed to anchor you from getting lost in your memories, they gave you a strange sense of lucidity. His expression, on the other hand, was what frightened you, he seemed disturbed by something, not you, but something. His brows were furrowed deeper in thought as he tried to focus more on the thing that disturbed him.

You cleared your throat and sunk into your chair, your arms wrapping around your neck to loosen the straining chords, "Alex was the one who made the tough decisions. It was around May, we always went camping in May. When… When they attacked, Alex, he told me to hide, so I did. I don't remember anything clearly after that. I can't picture things clearly, all I get are flashes, images, of blood and screams. I think they were my screams but it doesn't make sense. Why would I be screaming if I wasn't attacked? I don't know how I survived, or how they didn't find me."

You breathing was getting harder to control and you felt jittery, you wanted to be anywhere but here… doing this. You never saw him move from his spot, you had been so focused on holding back the tears and keeping your voice clear that you were surprised when Derek's hand was placed over your shoulder in an effort to comfort you. It felt like he was taking the anxiety and pain and confusion away from you, leeching it away until you felt numb enough to continue talking. In the corner of your eye, you saw his veins blacken.

"The next thing I know I'm holding him in my arms, watching the light leave his eyes and listening to him choke on his own blood. I didn't dare touch the arrow, it stayed in his chest till morning until the rangers arrived. They told me I was in shock and that it was only the two of us for miles. All I could recall with clarity was the image of a golden medallion shimmering in the moonlight, the engravings in Latin seared into my brain."

Your hand began to absentmindedly scratch at your neck, the tightness of your chords had muted into an uncomfortable itchy sensation. You would kill for a glass of water. Despite Derek leeching the intense emotions away, you could feel yourself on the brink of cracking and letting the tears flow out.

"When I got home I discovered that same medallion had been stashed away in my coat pocket, I don't know how it got there. I obsessed over it for months, which lead me to Professor Tennyson. But I don't… I don't remember anything else…" Your eyes were leaking tears and your throat has turned dry from holding back your sobs. You looked up at Derek, finally, his face contorted by many unreadable emotions, his hand no longer on your shoulder.

"I swear." You finished.

After he regained his composure, Derek stayed quiet, lost in thought. When all was said and done, he didn't seem satisfied with your story. You were practically seething now. You had just revealed something you had wished would stay buried forever and he had the gall to demand you tell him your darkest secrets and he still wasn't satisfied, even after he felt the very emotions they evoked on you. You clenched your jaw tighter, your teeth applying pressure to each other.

"You still don't believe me?" You were furious, your eyes squinted into slits, fire blazing unchecked behind your gaze as you stared daggers at him.

Derek lifted his head slowly, confusion still present on his face, "No," he whispered, it was low and smoky, "You don't believe yourself."

You were left speechless at his declaration, not knowing what he meant in the slightest.

"I was listening to your heartbeat the whole time. Listening for any ticks or fluctuations, it stayed steady for the most part, except… for when you said 'I don't remember'."

"What are you implying?"

"I think you do remember, subconsciously, that's why your heartbeat fluctuated. Whatever it is that really happened, you've blocked out the one part of that night that might give us a clue as to how they pick their victims."

"Are you saying I repressed the memory?"

"That is exactly what I'm saying."

"I… I don't know what to s--"

"GET DOWN!" Derek growled in the most authoritarian tone you had ever heard.

The sheer power behind his commanding words sent another shockwave of adrenaline shooting up your spine, it was like being pumped full of ice water. Derek began to run towards you, his arm extending so he could force you on the floor. Behind you, the sound of glass shattering accompanied by a faint whistling noise boomed into the night, your heart racing faster than a racehorse. In an instant, he managed to spin you away from the windows and shield you from the glass debris as he brought both your bodies to the floor, but he wasn't fast enough. Derek let out a pained groan and you noticed a tear on his shirt. His arm that had shielded you was bleeding. A clean, straight incision visible in the poor lighting. It looked surgical, precise. The image of Alex and the arrow in his chest burned at your eyes, you shut them for a second and moved to see the trajectory the incision laid out.

Sprays of water from the rain outside were swept in by the wind, Derek's shirt slowly getting soaked.

On the far side of the room, an arrow stood wedged into the wooden panelling of the wall, the feathers painted gold.

The Order.

They had come for you again.

You looked back at Derek, horror in your eyes. His face was clenched in pain and you instinctively looked back at his wound, the purple glow from the wolf’s-bane shining through the tear in his shirt.

"Shit! Derek, wolf’s-bane!"

"I. Know." He said through gritted teeth, "I. Felt. It!"

Another arrow broke through the second glass window, the shards falling like crystallised rain. You both shielded your eyes and averted your faces from the direction the glass flung towards. It didn't stop a piece of glass from lodging itself in your cheek. You held back your cry of pain and focused on breathing instead. You wouldn't let the fear take control, you were stronger than that!

"We need to get to the wolf’s-bane in the trunk..."

"We can't. I saw Deaton pack the trunk earlier. We used the last of his stock the other night."

Another arrow shot through. There was no window to break this time. Instead, it filled the room with the hauntingly soft whistling sound from before.

Derek raised a brow, an idea forming in his mind. He looked down at you apologetically before whispering: "Cover your ears."

You complied and soon the building was filled with the thunderous force of Derek's wolfish howl, it rivalled the sound of the lightning and thunder and rain outside. His eyes glowing blue once again. You squirmed under him, the howl threatening to burst an eardrum. The call had been made, now all you had to do was survive until backup arrived.


	5. Chaos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Summary:** After Stiles reveals his findings from the home of former history professor Ian Tennyson about the Order of Saggitarius, Derek goes to confront Dr Markolf about her possibly hiding vital information from the trio. They discover she has repressed the memories they need to help figure out how the hunters choose their victims just as they bombard the clinic with a flurry of wolfs-bane laced arrows! Derek calls for backup using his howl.  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** Not much to say about this chapter except I can’t wait to unveil the reveals I have in store in the next chapter and there's a surprise character I didn’t think I’d add to the story this early who is also making their debut next chapter!  
>  **Remember: readers last name is Markolf**  
>  **Words:** 2758  
>  **Warnings:** Mature Language, Violence... PTSD?  
> 

_(Gif not mine)_

  


Scott was fiddling with some table ornament that he had found lying about in the bunker.  


He kept tossing it about as he anxiously awaited Derek's return. Hopefully, he'd have more answers or something new to go on. It felt like they had been banging their heads against a concrete wall for the last couple of weeks.

A snore emanated from the computer and Scott realised Stiles had fallen asleep on the stack of books he was looking over. The computer monitors light illuminated the room.  


"I swear I'm not the one who ate your bonbons, Lydia!" Stiles said in his sleep.    


Thinking it best to give Stiles his privacy, Scott motioned to end the Skype call when his superhuman hearing detected Derek's howl.

"Son of a bitch!" Scott shouted as he dropped the ornament, generating a clanking metal noise that woke up Stiles.

"Wha- What?" Stiles asked in his disoriented state.

"Derek's in trouble. I gotta go!" Scott wasted no time in rushing to Derek’s aid, following after the sounds of his howl.

***

When Scott got close to the animal clinic he noticed the entire perimeter was surrounded by men and women dressed in ancient leather armour that looked like it came off the set of Game of Thrones.  


There were at least a dozen members of the Order gathered outside, seemingly unbothered by the rain or the cold or the loud rumbling noises generated by the frequent thundering.

Not wanting to be seen, Scott hid behind a car parked on the opposite lot and used his wolf eyes to see better in the dark.  


The windows facing the offices were shattered and there was a group of at least four archers nocking arrows relentlessly into the open window. There were some other armour clad hostiles that were wielding swords or some other medieval style weaponry.  


It was the first time Scott could get a good look at them, they were so out of place like artefacts from a museum come to life. If those artefacts were murdering bogeymen from the past.

Funny enough it wasn’t their severely out of date wardrobe that caught his attention. No, it was the black smoke burning out of their pitch black eyes, all but for one.  


The man with the unblackened eyes was standing beside the archers -who never let up their assault, not even for a second. He wore green robes and had eagle shaped eyes that glowed in a glorious amber hue. His pupils blown and his face glazed over like he was unfazed by everything that happened around him. He didn’t even flinch when the arrows let loose whizzed past his face, blowing strands of his long red hair away from his sunken cheekbones.

Scott focused his eyesight through the heavy rain on the green-robed man.  


He noticed a glowing green necklace that looked like an ancient compass, except it didn't even have the 'N,S,E,W' directions on it. In place of the usual directions, it had engravings that looked like some Asian language, though Scott knew it definitely wasn't Japanese. He had learnt a bit of Kanji from Kira and was able to eliminate that from his list of ideas.

The green-robed man turned his head and looked Scott square in the eye from across the road. Scott had been rattled by this, there was no way he could have seen him from such a distance unless he possessed superhuman eyesight. It was probably possible because of his otherworldly eyes.

The man, as though reading Scott's thoughts, smiled at him in a creepy fashion, bowed his head to the side and turned back to the windows to continue watching the arrows rip through the side of the building.  


The man had seen him. The man had seen Scott see him, and instead of doing something he chose to ignore him.  


Scott wasn't his prey.  


Which meant either Derek or Dr Markolf were!

"Scott?" Someone whispered in surprise from the roof of the building over-looking the animal clinic.  


Scott turned around slowly, his body tense, not expecting anyone to get the drop on him from behind since all the hostiles were focused on the clinic in front of him.

Scott's eyes went wide in disbelief.

"Liam?"

***

You bandaged Derek's arm using a strip of your shirt, you knew the bleeding wouldn't stop until the wolf's-bane was burned out of his system, but you also knew the pressure would slow the bleeding some.  


Derek was beginning to lose the colour in his cheeks and his body temperature was running feverish. You placed the back of your palm onto his forehead in order to measure his temperature.

"Jesus, you're burning up. Your body is trying to fight the poison like an infection." You informed Derek.

Derek's eyes kept fluttering open and closed, and his breathing was strained. The Order must have used a much more potent form of wolf's-bane this time.  


You glanced at the flurry of arrows embedded into the walls and the linoleum floor. You had long since gotten used to the sound of the whistling arrows, the flashes of blinding lightning and the sound of the thunderous booms, that you were barely able to register the quick pace of your heart or the shake in your limbs.

The adrenaline was doing its job.

And to be quite frank, you were just happy the power was still on.

"What are you thinking?" Derek asked when he noticed you staring at the arrows.

"…I'm thinking that maybe those arrows have enough traces of the wolf's-bane they laced them with to burn it out of your system," you said.

"How?"  


"By cauterising your wound with an arrowhead."  


Derek sighed and let out a breathy laugh, "Of course."  


"Just stay there, don't move," You told Derek.  


"I wasn't planning on going anywhere," he retorted as he dragged himself closer to the cover of the wall.  


You kept your head low and semi-crawled to the nearest arrow in the vicinity. It was lodged on the surface of your desk, the arrowhead pierced straight through your new phone.  


"There goes my insurance plan," you grumbled in annoyance as you pried the arrow from your unsalvageable phone.  


Now all you needed was the blowtorch. The only problem was that the blowtorch was somewhere behind that ever-growing curtain of arrows that pierced the wood and linoleum of the room. Maybe a lighter would do the trick. If only you'd taken up smoking as a bad habit in high school rather than sleeping through third period French with the dreadful Miss Prudeaux.  


Your mind went back to earlier in the day when Deaton was re-ordering his trunk and you remembered spotting what looked to be a lighter there. It was going to be slightly more dangerous than retrieving the arrow because the trunk was in the line of sight of the archers, but you figured you could use the lid for cover.  


Crawling to the trunk had been more difficult than you hoped because of all the shards of broken glass that cut through the skin on your palms and knees, but you soldiered through.  


As soon as you opened the trunks lid an arrow came flying passed and was deterred from hitting you in between the eyes by the thick layer of rosewood it was carved from.  


You gulped, an electric tingle shooting up your spine yet again before you hunkered lower and buried your face inside the trunk. You tossed and flipped through what felt like hundreds of bottles before you felt something cold and metal against your fingertips.  


"Yahtzee!" You cheered in triumph.  


Derek let out what sounded like an exasperated sigh before he began to cough up some black goo. Not good!  


Despite the urgency to rush to Derek, there was a scent in the air that seemed to draw you back towards the trunk. It was earthy and herbal. You knew the smell was familiar, but what you couldn't figure out was why you were focusing your energies on it rather than getting back to Derek. It was like someone else was taking over your body and making you follow after it.  


You riffled through Deaton's trunk until you found the thing you had been smelling, it was a bundle of dried sage leaves.  


Almost like someone had switched on a projector in your mind, the smell brought forth images of blood, and the sound of someone screaming again, only this time there was a new image to look upon. A clearer image; in the memory you were hiding behind a thick bush, a hand covering your mouth so you wouldn't scream or make a peep. There was a smell of burning sage that followed a thick cloud of smoke. A man with striking eyes, wearing a glowing green trinket on his neck glanced over at you behind the bush. You could feel his eyes on you. He took slow steps towards you, and then… nothing. The image faded as quickly as it had appeared.  


Not knowing why you felt it important or what the meaning behind the memory was, you stashed the sage in your pocket before scrambling back to Derek's side.  


You opened the zippo lighter and brought the arrowhead to rest above the flame. A black layer of soot covered the arrowhead as the metal began to gain a faint red glow that gave off small wisps of the infamous purple colour of wolf's-bane. It was working.  


"I won't lie to you, this is going to hurt."  


Derek chuckled, finding something amusing in the situation that you were oblivious to.  


"What?" you asked in the hopes he hadn't spiralled into a delirium.  


"You said we'd be even as long as I never trailed blood in your office again. Guess this means I'll owe you one again," Derek flashed you a smile and you couldn't tell if it was from the irony of your situation or because he really was delirious.  


"You won't want to after this," you whispered as you brought the hot piece of metal in contact with his skin.  


Derek groaned from the pain and you winced at seeing his reaction, the smell of searing flesh diffusing through the air.  


When he quietened down, you removed the arrow from his skin and tossed it aside as though it were a snake about to sink its teeth into you. You took Derek's face in your hands, afraid he had lost consciousness and tapped his cheek repeatedly with your hand.  


"Hey, Derek… Derek. Derek!" You shouted and he shot up like he'd just woken from a nightmare.  


You let out a sigh of relief and looked into his eyes to calm him and remind him where he was. His eyes returned to their mesmerising hazel colour. You had never seen them this colour up close. They were quite beautiful.  


Derek broke eye contact in order to look over the burn mark where the arrow had previously sliced through. The scorched flesh was already healing.  


"Quick thinking Doc. Don't suppose you have an idea for the storm of arrows raining down on us?"  


The image of you hunkering behind a sage bush as smoke filled the air flashed through your mind again, an idea taking form in your mind.  


"Actually… I might. Got a phone on you?"

***

"Liam, what are you doing here?" Scott whispered to the beta who was now standing next to him behind the cover of the parked car.  


"I'm in town for summer break. I heard Derek's howl while I was visiting my dad at the hospital. What are you doing here?"  


"Trying to rescue Derek and Y/N from those crusader looking dudes," Scott pointed at the very inconspicuous dozen men and women gathered around the animal clinic.  


"Who's Y/N?" Liam asked unfamiliar with the name  


"Long story, I'll fill you in later. First, we need to figure out a way to get them out of there, and quick."  


Scott's phone buzzed from the inside of his old Lacrosse hoodie.  


"Derek?" Scott asked as he answered the phone after reading the caller ID.  


"Yeah, listen are you at the animal clinic?"  


"I'm across the street with Liam."  


"Liam? Nevermind, I need you to create a distraction and lead the hunters away from the rear exit. Y/N think's she has an idea to help let us slip passed them, but we can't do it alone," Derek said.  


Scott looked at Liam to make sure he was on board, Liam nodded in compliance.  


"Yeah, I think we can manage that," Scott assured Derek.  


"Scott, just make sure their weapons don't cut you. They are laced with a very potent version of wolf's-bane. It will weaken you in minutes," Y/N relayed over the phone.  


"Got it, don't let the weapons cut us. We'll signal once the path is clear," Scott said before hanging up.  


"Feel like taking on some hunters?" Scott asked Liam.  


Liam's eyes glowed yellow as his lips turned up in a smile, popping his knuckles in anticipation of the fight he was about to dive into, "I've been dying for a reason to blow off some steam. Let's kick their asses!"

***

"Are you sure this will work?" Derek eyed you intensely, the whistling sounds of the arrows increasing the tension in the room.  


"No, not at all, but it's all I've got," you said with some uncertainty.  


"So what you're saying is our lives hang on the balance on account of a… hunch?"  


"When you put it that way…"  


Suddenly, the whistling noises stopped and the sound of grunts and inhuman roars rippled inside through the broken windows.  


"Is that the signal?" You asked Derek as you motioned to sit up from your crouched position.  


Derek placed his hand on your knee to keep you from rising up, the contact of your skin burning ever so slightly.  


"No," Derek shook his head, he waited until a howl called out through the night and then he stood up in a quick flash, "that's the signal."  


Quickly, you took out the Zippo lighter and lit the bundle of sage. When it started to smoke and the dried leaves began to crumble and turn to ash, you placed the sage on the floor and left the flames to die out on their own.  


"I hope this works," you said as you stood up from cover.  


Derek gave you his hand and you took it without hesitation as he raced with you in tow to the rear exit. Derek peaked outside and when he was certain there was no one guarding the entrance, he waved you down from corner you took cover behind.  


"My car is parked across the street," Derek said.  


"You drove here?" You asked astonished.  


"What, you thought I ran here?" Derek asked.  


"Well, no, but driving here just sort of makes your entrance less… dramatic, that's all." You admitted.  


Derek groaned and rolled his eyes, "Come on," he urged you as he took your hand again.  


As soon as there were no traces of the smell of sage in the air, one of the hunters on the far end of the building -the man in the green robe- snapped his head at you and Derek's direction as though he could see you before he saw you. 

  
He lifted a long bony finger, and from across the yard he shouted, "Leave the shape-changers be, get after the girl!"  


One of the archers, a woman with long braided blonde hair charged after you and Derek as she rallied the others to her side, “You heard Alyster. After the girl!”  


"Fuck!" Derek swore as he ran faster to the car, you were having a hard time keeping up with his inhuman speeds but not as much as most would have.  
When you reached his car, he unlocked the doors, shouted for you to get in like it wasn't the most obvious thing you were going to do and he drove away, ramming into one of the black-eyed hunters in the process.  


Derek drove like a madman as the blonde archer nocked several arrows after you, and for the first time in your life, you were glad to be in the same car as someone who didn't give a rat’s ass about minding the speed limit.  


"Where are we going?" You asked after Derek had put considerable distance between you and the animal clinic.  


"The Bunker."  


Over the horizon, the golden glow of first light began to crawl over the dark sky.


	6. A What in Sheeps Clothing?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** So the story shifts into Derek's POV and then back to yours briefly, but unlike the last time I did that, I have kept the pronoun _you_ instead of _she_. I will go back and edit the previous chapter where I used the pronoun _she_ later to keep the style consistent. It’s just a writing style change thing, that’s all. Also, I know I promised a surprise appearance by another character in this chapter, but that has been moved to the next chapter instead!  
> 
> 
> **Words:** 2641  
> 
> 
> **Warnings:** None, pretty tame chapter.  
> 

_(gif isn’t mine)_

Stiles had gotten tired of waiting around for Scott and Derek to reappear on the computer screen, so he shut his laptop off, pulled out his phone and sent Scott a text saying he was leaving Lackawanna County and getting on the first plane home. He made sure to carry a few of the more important books Professor Ian had lying about as well as some scribblings he had jotted down on scattered lined paper.

He dreaded the mountain heap of paperwork he'd have to do over the flight and the fact he'd have to come up with a plausible explanation as to why Professor Ian should be declared missing without hinting at the fact he had broken into his very abandoned home without a warrant and found it void of occupants to do so.

***

Derek and you had been the first to arrive. He paced continuously until Scott and Liam arrived.

Derek's bunker was not what you had imagined, but then again you had never been inside a bunker before today. You had seen the inside of the odd storm cellars, but that was a different calibre all together. It was quite large for a bunker with a few shelves and tables and furnishings. What stood out was the amount of weaponry stored in it. You felt like you were inside an armoury more than a protective bunker.

Derek had told you it wasn’t actually his bunker, but that it belonged to a friend named Chris Argent –unbeknownst to him, you actually knew about the Argent’s, they were infamous in your inner circles. It also never escaped you how he used the term _‘friend’_ liberally.

You were wrapped in a blanket seated on one of the chairs trying not to have a panic attack.

As it turned out, the hunters had been after you all along. You kept racking your brain to figure out how you had survived their attacks twice in a row now. And why was the sage so important?

You were spiralling into paranoia as your leg refused to stop shaking and you bit at your nails anxiously.

Derek noticed your state of unease. He ran his hand over his scruff before letting out a breath of air and walking over to the chair you sat in. He bent down so you looked down on him, giving you the higher ground in this exchange.

"Hey, you okay?" He asked sincerely.

You nodded your head ‘yes’ but your legs never stopped shaking. Derek placed both his strong hands on your knees to stop them from jolting about. Your eyes instantly snapped to his.

"Are you okay?" he asked again, the sincerity in his voice chipping away at the foundations of your composure. He had only ever spoken to you in this manner once before, when he had thanked you for saving his life that fateful day. It brought about an odd feeling.

Suddenly Derek seemed less intense, less rigid. His eyes were calming. It felt like staring at a canopy of trees as light warmed the dark green petals into luke-warm yellow; the blend of green in his eyes was damn near magical. It was a great contrast to his predatory cold blue eyes that belonged to the wolf.

You couldn't keep up the brave front anymore as a tear threatened to reveal itself and the tightening feeling in your chest returned. You took in a hitched breath and blew out the air to try and focus your thoughts on something mundane. You began listing all the Latin names of the herbs Deaton had stored in his trunk in your head.

You had always had a great memory, except when it came to remembering vital information about what happened the night Alex died, according to Derek’s keen wolf ears anyway.

"No," you whispered to him, finally answering his question.

"Why don't you get some rest?" He said softly, "Scott and Liam won't be back for a while, you can use the cot." He pointed to the cot behind him.

You looked over to the cot. It had sacrificed luxury and comfort for practicality and durability. It wasn't at all inviting, but you'd be fooling yourself if you said you weren't exhausted from all the craziness with the hunters and the shattered glass and Derek nearly dying… again.

And here you thought today would be werewolf free.

"I promise it's more comfortable than it looks," Derek offered up a mild smile.

You let out an uneasy laugh, but your face was the furthest thing from amused. Perhaps you were laughing to try and shift the dark mood that coated the cold walls of the bunker.

Derek shot you a puzzled look but didn't ask any questions.

You stood from the chair and walked over to the cot, the blanket draped around your shoulders like a cape. When you sat down on the mattress it nearly swallowed you whole as you sunk into it.

You made a weird noise as you were taken by surprise at how easily you sunk into the mattress.

Derek chuckled at the noise you made, "I didn't know you did Chewbacca impressions."

"Neither did I until I was nearly swallowed whole by this mattress!" you wined.

The both of you seemed to lighten up after that. Derek's smile made him look younger, less like he held the weight of the world on his shoulders.

"You should do that more often," you said casually. Derek raised his brow at you.

"Laugh, I mean. Or smile. Either one," you clarified.

Derek held your gaze for what felt like an eternity.

There was no uncomfortable silence or burning glare. There was just his eyes and the quiet, chasing away the fear and panic and every bitter emotion that had surfaced since your first meeting. In that moment he looked at you like he was seeing you for the first time, no suspicion, no caution… just two people sharing a moment.

Two people enjoying the momentary reprieve from the madness that ensued outside, not taking the peaceful moment for granted.

Derek cleared his throat and walked over to place a hand on your shoulder, just like he had done before the hunters attacked, except there was no pain or fear to leech from you anymore.

"Rest," he said softly.

You nodded and fell back into the mattress, laying in the foetal position as you covered your body with the blanket you had draped around your shoulders.

"Hey… Derek, don't go anywhere," You pleaded, knowing full well you couldn't handle being alone in the dark right now, not after everything.

Somehow, knowing Derek was there, in the same room as you, with you, you felt safe enough that the voices in your head stopped screaming and you let yourself go to sleep. Your eyelids heavier than they had been all week.

"I'm not going anywhere," he whispered when you were finally asleep.

***

You were restless in your sleep.

Frightful images flashed in your mind on an endless loop. The green-robed hunter –Alyster, sneered at you with a wicked smile as he walked over to your hiding spot behind the sage bush. The glowing compass on his neck letting out wisps of green light that stretched outward like long, thin, stick-like fingers towards you.

You heard the screams of Alex and his pack in the distance. You were about to scream but you were rendered mute, no sound capable of being produced by your larynx.

You were a helpless bystander, left to watch the events of that cursed night replay over and over. Your outcome always shifting and changing, but that of Alex and his pack had stayed the same. Like a prophecy carved in stone; predestined and permanent.

You were trapped in your own personal hell, looping back and forth like some broken record that was left to spin and spin and spin...

***

Derek noticed you tossing and turning. Every now and then he'd catch you make a motion to scream or shout or say something, but it was like the words were caught in your throat and you were forced to do nothing but clutch at the blankets and whimper helplessly.

You were having a nightmare he realised, he had had a few of his own. This particular nightmare reminded him of all those vivid nightmares he would have about the fire and Kate and Laura. They had made him feel helpless and useless. A victim trapped in his own mind, he hated that feeling.

His keen ears picked up the fast beating of your heart and his senses felt your anxiety and stress. It was so powerful his hands began to shake on their own. It took someone of considerable resolve to go through something so tumultuous and yet have the strength to put on a brave face every day, a part of Derek admired you for that. Another part pitied you.

Derek stood from the stool and carried it over to the cot. He sat next to you and took your hand, trying to leech off your discomfort, but he didn't need to.

As soon as he placed his hand in yours, he felt you begin to calm down. Soon enough your breathing returned to normal and the only thing he sensed from you was exhaustion.

Before Derek knew it, he had fallen asleep hunched over the cot. His hand still in yours.

 

**A Few Hours Later...**

 

Liam and Scott's loud footsteps echoed into the Bunker, waking Derek from his unexpected slumber.

Derek noticed his and your hands were still linked and slowly, carefully disconnected them, but not before Scott caught a glimpse of the contact. He made no comment about it.

He and Liam looked weary, like they had just run a marathon.

Derek placed a finger on his lips to inform them to keep their voices down and leave you to rest.

"Sorry we took so long, Liam wanted to double back in case we'd get lucky and catch their scent to track them back to their base of operations but..." Scott spoke in a low octave.

"But what?" Derek asked suspiciously.

"They kinda, sorta, disappeared into the trees," Liam finished Scott’s sentence.

"You're werewolves, why couldn't you just follow after their scent?" Derek pointed out.

"No, he means they literally disappeared _into_ the trees when first light broke out." Scott elaborated.

Derek shot Scott a 'what-the-fuck' glance for a brief moment. Liam shrugged like it was no big deal that he'd seen people disappear through solid matter.

When he regained his composure, Derek wiped that stupid look off his face and tried to act like he wasn't shaken to the core.

"That explains why I didn't hear them approach the clinic earlier. It was odd, it was as if they appeared out of thin air," Derek said.

"Except it's more like they appeared out of thick trees…" Liam's dry wit fell on deaf ears. Derek just huffed and Scott shook his head.

"What now?" Derek asked the boys.

"Stiles called. He said he'd be on the next flight back to California. He's bringing the book he… 'temporarily misappropriated' with him. We can look over the research later. For now, I think we all need some rest. And I for one need a shower," Scott said.

"Is anyone going to fill me in on what I just got roped into?" Liam asked, clueless about all the weirdness that had resurfaced in Beacon Hills.

"I'll fill you in on the drive back," Scott said, "I can drop you off on the way home." He headed for the door and Liam followed behind, his muscles still shaking from the chase. Undoubtedly a side effect of being a werewolf with IED.

Derek watched the two of them ascend the stairs before he decided to grab a new shirt from his duffle bag and start reading up on the properties of sage on the computer.

The mystery as to how the smoke from the burning sage had shrouded his and your exit from the hunters earlier was eating at him. How did you know burning the sage would prevent the hunters from coming after them while they were in the clinic? And how was he going to get the answers he needed if you had repressed the memories that held the key to understanding everything?

Derek needed a painkiller, maybe two.

***

When you awakened it was already past noon. You couldn't remember the last time you had slept for so long, if anything all that rest just made you feel more tired.

You heard some chatter coming from the other end of the room. Derek, Scott, Liam and someone dressed in a two-piece work suit, jittering about like he was hopped up on Redbull were all seated in a half circle. Derek leaned against the table since there was a limited number of stools.

The boys were discussing something in hushed tones, but you were able to pick up bits and pieces.

"Stiles, did any of the Professor's books reveal anything else about the hunters? Like a weakness or how they're able to, apparently, disappear into trees?" Derek asked the man in the work suit.

"No mentions about tree commutes, but on the plane ride over I read over some of the Professor's notes and he did mention the hunters were bound to something called the Mother Tree. But that could just be a way of saying 'Tree of Life', it's very vague. Besides most of the book is in Latin so I can't translate it," Stiles said.

"Did you call Lydia?" Scott asked Stiles.

"No I decided against calling the only Latin expert we know that can help us translate an ancient text that could hold the answers to stopping the rampage caused by these hunters," Stiles' eyes squinted and he shook his head in a dramatic whip like motion, sarcasm thick in his words.

After a long pause, Stiles said, "Of course I called her. She'll be here as soon as possible."

"And when will that be?" Derek asked.

"Whenever the clock strikes 'as soon as possible' O'clock," Stiles quipped again. Liam snickered at the way Derek was scowling at Stiles.

"What about you, did you find out why the hunters seemed to be deterred from their attacks as soon as Y/N burned the sage?" Scott asked Derek.

Derek let out an exasperated huff, he ran his hands over his face and rubbed at his temple, "Honestly, the only thing I dug up was how sage is known for cleansing auras and some other hippie bullshit. We should probably ask Deaton about that, he’s the resident expert on this stuff."

"Okay just hold on a minute," Liam said, garnering the attention of everyone in the room, "You guys said these hunters hunt other supernatural creature’s right?"

"Yeah," Derek and Scott said simultaneously.

As you approached them, Liam, Derek and Scott turned in the direction of your footsteps. They heard you walking towards them despite being barefoot. Stiles was the last to look in your direction, his reaction a few seconds slower than his werewolf buddies.

"So then what are you?" Liam directed the question at you.

Derek and Scott turned to look at you as well, curiosity taking over their expressions as they waited for an answer.

Derek stared at the cut on your cheek with a grim expression.

You sighed and ran a hand across the sore gash where the glass had previously embed itself into your cheek, the cut had already begun to show signs of healing.

Guess the cat was out of the bag, there was no avoiding this.

You took a deep breath and raised your eyes to look up at the four men seated in a half circle in front of you.

"I'm like you. I'm a werewolf," you revealed.


	7. The Root of the Matter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** So I take major liberties with the lore of transferring memories between werewolves in this chapter, but it’s still bordering the line of the established lore in the series so... But now I can happily say that the mystery of who the Order are and what they want is slowly unravelling. Now about that slow burn... (Also when you read the dream state part where the reader's eyes change colour, that’s just the eye colour of her inner wolf).

_(gif isn’t mine)_

 

_**"I'm like you. I'm a werewolf."** _

The words rang through the room as all four sets of eyes were on you.

Scott's face was scrunched up in thought, he had found your reveal to be quite the shocker. You guessed he was probably unsettled by the fact he had never sensed the werewolf in you. Not that many could. Even your own family had a hard time sensing your other half. They had said it was because the wolf had remained buried, never once surfacing to take to its own unique scent and feel.

Stiles and Liam seemed the least shocked. If anything Stiles seemed to find some credibility in your being a werewolf. After all, just as Liam put it, the Order hunts other supernatural creatures, not humans.

Derek, however, had an unreadable expression on his face. It bothered you somewhat. You didn't want him to look at you with that same level of distrust and caution as he used to. You had hoped things would be different after the attack on the clinic.

You waited in deafening silence as the boys mulled over your words. Until finally Derek spoke.

"How did you know the sage would work?" Derek asked, to your delight he regarded you no difference on account of your secret being made known. You felt more at ease for some reason.

"I'm not sure. I just knew," You told him, surprised by his choice in question.

"How come we couldn't sense you?" Liam asked, bringing the focus back to your newly revealed secret.

"You and I both know the wolf form and the human form can have two very distinct scents. Also, I'm what you call an 'afflicted,'" You said in a hushed voice, the word afflicted rolled off your tongue with a slight sting to it. You always hated that word.

"What is that?" Scott asked, finally breaking from his stupor.

Derek's brow was drawn together as he wore his signature scowl whenever he was deep in thought.

"I thought they were a myth. My mother told me stories as a kid… the Afflicted are pure born shape-shifters who can't shift," Derek looked at you with what you assumed was pity in his eyes.

"Yahtzee," you said sardonically, "give this man a prize."

"That's a thing?" Stiles asked.

"Yeah, my mother would tell me these stories about werewolves being cursed to stay in their human form forever. To be honest, I always thought it was just a scary story to keep me from turning outside a full moon," Derek had a fond look on his face, the memory brought about a bitter-sweet touch to his chiselled features.

"It's actually a recessive gene. My family are one of the last few remaining carriers. It only runs in pure-blooded werewolf families. My brothers and sisters can shift, my mother is the carrier and I'm the one with the genetic predisposition, that is, assuming lycanthropy works the same way as gene expression," You said brazenly, a solemn smile gracing your lips.

Stiles' eyes went wide as he flailed about trying to open one of the leather bound books he had in his possession. His actions caused quite the ruckus and you had to stop yourself from laughing at his goofy behaviour.

"Okay so on my way here, I started thinking about the name they gave the hunted:  Ex Alia, right. And it's an odd phrase because combined Ex Alia actually means 'from the other' and that can also mean 'apart from', right."

"Stiles, we've been over this," Derek said running his fingers over his thick eyebrows.

Stiles mimed Derek's words back at him in a comical way, "If you would just let me finish!"

Derek held up his hands and folded them over his chest, eyeing Stiles intensely for the loud tone he had shouted at him with.

"Thank you," Stiles said condescendingly, "Now, what if it's in reference to werewolves who are apart from their kin. Like for example..."

"Werewolves or other shapeshifters who can't shift," Scott finished Stiles' thought.

Even though Stiles argument made sense to you, you couldn't help but fight against his logic, "Even if that were true, they still went after Alex, and he _could_ shift," you rebutted.

"Yes, but you said it's genetic. So what if Alex was a carrier?" Stiles rebuffed.

You went silent. Stiles had a point.

You knew Alex since childhood, he was a third generation werewolf. Your family had a close relationship with other legacy families, that's how you met. It was completely plausible for Alex to be a carrier for the same recessive gene you expressed.

You were startled from your lamentation when you heard a booming knock come from the bunker door. Everyone in the room exchanged questioning glances as they silently asked each other if they knew who it could be.

Stiles drew the short straw and offered himself up to go and see who it was. You were still standing there, numb from everything that had transpired.

You heard Stiles pull open the heavy metal door of the bunker, mutter a quick "Nope," like he was rejecting Girl Scout cookies and shut it behind him before he came to re-join the half circle again.

"Who was it?" Liam asked.

"No one important," Stiles said coolly as he waved the question away and wore an upturned frown. It was certainly a dubious look. Derek wasn’t convinced as he raised a brow at him.

A second later, Derek and Scott's heads snapped to the doors direction just as the door flew off its hinges. Their claws and fangs protruding outwards, their wolfish features taking shape.

Liam was already fully shifted, his nostrils flaring as he let out snarls for breaths. The energy coming off him was powerful and angry, making you instinctively take a few steps back.

All three of them lined up in front of you and Stiles, their eyes creating a gradient from red to yellow to blue. Their animalistic growls echoing through the room.

A set of footsteps descended the steps in a relaxed, languid manner. They belonged to a handsome faced man, slightly older than everyone else in the room, with the same dramatic streak as Derek. He smiled wickedly as he opened his arms in a warm mocking embrace, his head held up high like some entitled prince. His own blue eyes glowing with the same intensity as Derek.

Derek, Liam and Scott retracted their fangs and claws and dropped their defensive stances as soon as they registered who it was that had just punched the door in.

Apparently, the man making the needlessly dramatic entrance wasn't a threat.

"Anyone ever tell you it's rude to shut the door in people’s faces?" The man asked Stiles in a low threatening voice. His clawed fingers dusting off none existent dust from his leather jacket.

"Yeah, well I was also told not to invite homicidal maniacs into any enclosed spaces with me, so..." Stiles shot back.

"Peter, what are you doing here?" Derek asked with a hint of familiarity.

"Why dear nephew, I heard your call."

"Okay who called the homicidal maniac?" Stiles said as he looked over at Derek, Scott and Liam with exasperation.

"He meant the howl," Liam told Stiles.

"Oh, this is just great," you sighed, plopping yourself down on the stool where Liam had previously sat. "More werewolves."

Stiles just patted your back and gave a weak, "There, there," in place of consolation.

"So what have I missed?" Peter said with a large smirk on his clean-shaven face.

The next hour was spent catching Peter up on what was currently plaguing Beacon Hills and your life.

Peter stopped Scott from talking with a single look when he heard you had repressed the memories from the night Alex died. He had an idea, you could read it on his face.

He came and stood a few inches away from you, looking down at you like you were some mathematical theorem to be solved. He held up one finger after much silence and ushered Derek closer to you.

"Derek, come here a second," he said. Derek obliged but made sure to drag his feet a little so Peter didn't think Derek was open to being summoned.

"I hear you have amnesia," Peter directed the statement to you, you just stared up at him and didn't reply. "You're a werewolf, right? So that means even though you can't shift, the same rules apply to you?"

"In a way. I can heal faster than humans, my sense of smell is better and in some cases, I can hear better, but without the ability to shift those powers are significantly weaker to that of actual shapeshifters. But… yes, the same rules apply. Wolf's-bane is still toxic to me, I still feel the pull of the moon, and my abilities are magnified when I'm in a pack. Why do you ask?" You were curious as to where Peter was going with this.

"Just making sure this won't kill you," Peter just gave an innocent smile before he extended his claws and dug them into yours and Derek's neck, linking you to one another, using himself as a conduit. Before you were lost in the spiral of memory and shared consciousness, you heard Stiles say "Oh my God!" in shock and Scott shout Peter's name in an alpha male voice.

It was too late though, you and Derek were already linked and pulling you out now would just cause more harm than good.

***

It felt like you were free falling through an endless white space. Incoherent chattering and sounds playing all at once like someone had overlapped several songs onto a single track.

You were lost in the cacophony of your mind in disarray, until you felt Derek's hands link with yours, pulling you from your confusion.

"Where are we?" You asked him.

Derek looked around at the white empty space, it was like staring at a blank canvas that had no end. His brows knit together for a moment before he realised what was going on.

"We're in your mind, Peter linked us in a shared dream state. Werewolves can sometimes share memories by a bite or a scratch. I think in this case he figured you couldn't grow out your claws or fangs, so he used himself as a proverbial telephone cord."

You were familiar with how the sharing of memories worked. Your father had done something similar with your older brother Markus when he had passed on the mantle of Alpha to him.

Just as you were reliving the memory, the blank canvas of your mind bled through with colour and voices and suddenly a clear image of that day began to replay as though you had just stepped back in time.

Your brother was lying in the centre of a field by the meadow you had spent much of your childhood watching your sibling’s roughhousing.

Markus was writhing in pain as his eyes shimmered between his former vibrant gold to the frightful red they were now. Your mother, sister and younger brother were standing alongside you as you all watched your father transfer his powers onto Markus.

"What is this?" Derek asked

"The Markolf tradition," you said with a hint of pride at your legacy and sorrow for the pain your brother was enduring.

Your brother let out a howling scream, you winced. so did Derek.

You continued, "We differ from most werewolf families because we have the ability to pass on the mantle of alpha when we are no longer fit enough to carry it. That’s partially where we got our name from. Markolf is old High German, it combines the words ‘border’ and ‘wolf’ because we aren’t like most werewolf families. The transferral is painful and can only be done during a full moon. If none of the pack contests, and if the progeny is strong enough, then passing on of the mantle is usually successful."

"I've never heard of this..." Derek was perplexed and in awe of what he saw unfolding.

"My great-grandfather was what you call a True Alpha, he discovered it was possible to pass on the gift by focusing his power through a bite. However, in doing so, you also relinquish most of your strength, making you considerably weaker."

Derek shook himself of his astonishment and tugged at your hand to make you face him, "I think I know why Peter did what he did. If you can't remember what happened to you, then maybe I can. Earlier, you were having a nightmare, I think it was about the night Alex died."

You squinted your eyes at him, not having any memory of having had a nightmare earlier, "I don't remember having a nightmare."

"It must be your subconscious protecting you from the trauma. All I need you to do is just think about that night. Close your eyes and picture it, what's the first thing that comes to mind?"

You closed your eyes and let your mind wander.

***

Derek kept his eyes on you while yours stayed shut. He held onto your hand to be your anchor, your guide. He watched silently as the canvas began to bleed through with new colours and images and sounds again.

It started with a laugh.

A sweet, sing-song laugh that tugged at Derek's heartstrings. He turned in the direction of the laugh and saw a younger version of you. A version from the past. He couldn't help but think how beautiful you looked with a bright eye-creasing smile and a glow to your skin from the beams of light falling against your body from the moon.

Derek's breath hitched in his throat as he saw the younger version of you wrapped in another man’s arms. A strong man’s arms. Alex, no doubt.

Alex tucked a strand of your longer hair behind an ear. There were accents of playful red streaks hidden amongst the darker parts of your hair. He enjoyed your vibrancy and so did Derek.

You had seemed a different person in the memory. More carefree and easier with a smile, it had managed to coax an unexpected smile from Derek too.

Alex whispered sweet nothings in your ear as the camp sight materialised behind you, and soon so did the trees and the speckled night sky.

Derek couldn't help it when his jaw tightened and his eyes filled with what held the familiar tang of jealousy. He didn't understand where this feeling was coming from, but he was sure it had to do with the fact the younger, longer-haired version of you was looking longingly into the eyes of another man.

Was Derek jealous of a dead man?

Derek grew annoyed at his boyish behaviour, he was here to help you uncover your memories, not be yearning after a version of the woman whose hand he held.

Once the memory had been constructed it was time for Derek to relive it for you while you kept your eyes shut.

The memory shifted from its pleasant sweetness into a slightly more darkened tone. Derek saw the younger version of you having an argument with Alex. Your face frowned and your eyes held a stubborn conviction, Alex appeared more worn out, as though he was slowly realising he was losing the fight:

"I just don't understand why you would take the job in Vancouver without talking with me about it…" Alex said with gloom.

"Alex, I don't want to fight about this again. It's not every day that someone gets offered such a desirable job straight out of university!" The younger version of you shouted, tired of arguing about the same thing for the past month with Alex. "You know I couldn't pass it up."

"But you did so without talking it over with me first. It's like you're using the job as an excuse to end things with me. I know we haven't been ourselves in a while now, I know we fight a lot but--"

"Alex, please stop. We can talk about this when we get back home."

Derek noticed that your smile began to falter as you heard the words the younger version of you shouted at Alex. He squeezed your hand slightly to let you know he was still with you. That you weren't alone.

The memory grew darker still.

The night was less illuminated and the moon was obscured by rain clouds. In the memory, you were holding a hand over your mouth to keep your ragged pants as inaudible as possible, hunkered behind a sage bush as Alex slowly bled out a stone’s throw away from you.

Alyster -the man in the green robe from before- was scanning the forest, he was searching for you. His eagle eyes still every bit as disconcerting as before. The compass around his neck slowly losing its green glow.

The blonde archer from before came to his side, "Alyster," she called out, "the girl, can you sense her?"

Alyster shook his head, his red hair weightless against the howling wind, "Her aura has been shielded from the Oculus," his bony fingers clasped the compass around his neck, "its ability is being obscured." Alyster pointed at a burning cluster of sage close by.

The archer grabbed a hand full of sage growing on one of the many bushes closest to her and crumpled it in her hands with distaste, "And the boy?" the archer asked, glancing down at a slowly dying Alex.

"He carries the magic in him as well, but the girl’s was stronger. She is the one we need if we hope to keep the Mother Tree fuelled. I fear, she may be the last." Alyster glanced down at his arm. A tattoo made up of a strange marking etched onto his forearm, previously hidden under his green robe.

When Alex finally drew his last breath, a green mist came into view around his body, the mist was drawn towards the tattoo, embedding itself into it. The tattoo glowed the same shade as the Oculus for a brief minute before it returned back to normal. Alyster let out a pained growl.

"The rest of the pack have scurried off, do we make with the chase?"

"No. They do not possess the magic. Leave them be, tell the others to return. Daybreak is upon us."

Derek noticed tears streaming down your face.

Your hand had clutched his in a death grip as the memory began to unravel and spiral into chaos. It played over and over again: the lone arrow whistling through the tree line, embedding itself into Alex's chest after your argument; Alex shouting for you to hide as another arrow flew out; you scurrying behind the bushes and holding your breath as you listened to Alyster and the female archer converse; Alex losing the light in his eyes; the eagle eyes that scanned the forest belonging to Alyster and the green tendrils that felt out for you emerging from the Oculus.

It just kept repeating.

"Y/N, snap out of it," Derek shook your shoulders. You didn't budge, your eyes shut tight, refusing to open.

"Y/N, wake up, listen to my voice," Derek tried to reassure you, "I'm here, I'm right here, don't lose yourself in the memory. Stay with me!"

He was shaking you violently but you were lost in the chaos. Derek watched as the memory replayed itself, getting corrupted and altered the longer it stayed in its loop.

Derek couldn't think of anything else to do, he needed to draw your senses to him, to pull you out of your hell.

In desperation, he gripped your face between his hands and drew you in for a kiss. Your lips were stiff and unmoving at first, but soon enough he felt you loosen in his arms as you began to instinctively kiss him back.

In the background, the horrific memory dissipated into blackness and the dark canvas mutated into a beautiful rendition of a romanticised full moon and starry sky.

Derek felt himself let go of all senses and logic as he deepened the kiss and wrapped his arms around your waist. He felt your fingers grace his jawline as his tongue practically serenaded you into a peaceful quiet.

You were drowning in each other.

When Derek pulled back, he was utterly thrown by what he saw. Your eyes, they weren't their normal colour, they glowed a magnificent silver, like the moon itself. And your body was surrounded by a shimmering green aura.

If the moon were personified as a woman, Derek imagined she would not be able to hold a candle up to your spellbinding beauty.

You had taken the very air from his lungs.

His eyes turned their werewolf blue, but it wasn't from being on the defensive or from anger. They were blue for another reason.

"Why did you--" you couldn't finish your question, a deep flush colouring your neck and cheeks.

"It was the only thing I could think of to snap you out of your… daze," Derek explained, his chest heaving up and down.

Without any warning, just as you were mere moments from placing your hand back on his face, to feel if he was real even in the dream state, the dream melted away.  Derek and you were pulled apart in opposite directions as reality bombarded your senses again.

***

"Welcome back," Peter said in between ragged pants as his head was coated in sweat and he was hunched over, holding onto his knees to keep him upright.

Your neck bled from the claw marks, staining your clothes red. Your eyes struggling to open.

You gasped out loud as you almost toppled over from the stool. Derek caught you before you touched the ground, his arms struggling to hold you up, Liam rushed to help him.

As you lost consciousness, the last thing you saw was his soothing green eyes looking down at you with worry and Liam’s own panic riddled expression contrasting deeply with the calm that was settling over you.


	8. Rhizome

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** So it's finally here, the long-anticipated eighth chapter! Three cheers for the amazing readers who asked when my next instalment would be, you guys kept me writing through this stressful and busy academic year! Also, was the wait worth it? No. You guys deserved an update months ago! (I still have Halloween prompts in my inbox... *laughs nervously*) I hope you enjoy this chapter. All I can say is... the action picks up in the next chapter!  
>  **Note:** Reader’s last name is Markolf. A lot of season 3 callbacks!  
>  **Words:** 3062 (this chapter was long!)  
>  **Warnings:** Past Trauma??? An insensitive Peter? Some tropes thrown in there! That’s it I guess.

**"What did you find out?"** Liam whispered, conscious not to be too loud since you were passed out on the cot a few meters away.

"It's too much to get into now," Derek whispered, his eyes on your resting form. "But I think I know how she survived the first attack."

"The John Doe case in New Hampshire?" Stiles asked. Derek nodded.

"In her memories, she hid behind a sage bush that caught on fire."

"Are you suggesting these hunters are afraid of Sage?" Peter fired off the question like it was a race after rolling his eyes at the idea.

"She burnt some sage at the animal clinic too. I think they have to sense who their targets are. The sage probably throws them off the scent… or however they track people."

"There has to be a reason people use sage to cleanse houses. I saged the hell out of my house after I found out we had a Hellhound on the Police payroll." Stiles revealed boldly. Everyone turned to look at him like he’d set his underwear on fire. "What? Lydia told me sage cleanses negative energy and auras."

After a beat, Liam added, "Sometimes the answers to the hardest questions are the simplest ones." He sounded like a philosophy major. Now it was his turn to get everyone's confused glares. "What? I read it on a fortune cookie once."

Scott's head snapped up with a thought, "What if they see their targets the way we see Kitsune? Auras.”

“And the sage acts as a smoke screen," Stiles finished Scott’s thought.

"Are we supposed to start sporting necklaces made of sage? Maybe make a nice cologne? Don't know about you, but I'm quite partial to the smell of my _Eau De Nuit Oud_. Besides, we can't set fire to any bush we come in contact with in hopes it may be sage when the hunters attack again." Peter said.

"We aren't a priority on their kill list now that we know they want Y/N." Derek reminded his uncle bitterly. "Which means we can't leave her unprotected until we find a way to fight them."

"Who's gonna be on first watch?" Stiles asked, "Because I'm in desperate need of a shower and a nap."

"I'll do it." Peter offered.

"And are we just supposed to trust that a former homicidal maniac like you wouldn't just give her up to the Order to try and save your own skin?" Stiles shot back.

"Hey!" Peter acted offended, "Reformed homicidal maniac to you."

Derek made his way to the exit, "Peter comes with me. I have a lead to check out."

"I'll take first watch." Scott declared.

Derek took a double take of your sleeping form. He was becoming all too aware of how increasingly protective over you he was getting. He didn't like where this was going. He clenched his jaw, and with large strides, he left the bunker with Peter on his tail. He kept berating himself; he should have never fucking kissed you!

* * *

***

You awoke with a hell of a headache and a throbbing feeling where Peter’s claws used to be. Your legs were as heavy as logs as you dragged them off the bed and onto the ground, your hand pressed to the nape of your neck in a feigned effort to sooth the stinging sensation.

You heard the faint whispers of voices coming from the other side of the room. For a moment you thought you had been in your own house. Correction: your new house with unpacked boxes and fresh sheets, but after a few seconds, when you finally got your bearings, you realised you were still in the Bunker. You sighed, feeling exhausted of your dark surroundings more than anything else.

"Look who's finally awake," Scott said with a relieved smile on his face.

"How long was I out?"

"A little under four hours," he answered.

"Four hours?" you asked in disbelief. "Why didn't anyone try and wake me?"

Scott awkwardly shuffled his feet, "Honestly, we figured after the night you just had, you could use a little rest."

You gave them a soft smile, "You got any pain killers?" you asked, still rubbing at your neck.

Scott looked at you with both a confused and concerned look, "It hasn't healed yet?"

"I heal faster than humans, but not as fast as werewolves," You stood up from the cot, which took more effort than you'd have liked. That memory sharing fiasco left you feeling winded, even several hours after said aforementioned memory sharing. Though, something about it made you feel different. It was like you were forgetting something crucial. You only remembered bits and pieces, like the last remnants of a dream that was slowly slipping from your mind. Instinctively you traced your lips with the tips of your fingers. _What were you forgetting?_

"Here you go," Scott handed you a container of painkillers and some bottled water.

"Thanks," You looked around and noticed how empty the bunker was. "Where is everyone?"

"It's daylight. The hunters don't come out during daylight so Stiles went home for a change of clothes and some sleep. Peter and Derek took off on some ' _urgent business_ ' and Liam… Well, he's supposed to be here by now. It's his turn on guard duty."

"Guard duty?"

"You were unconscious. And with what happened to the animal clinic, the hunters are after you too."

"You guys would do that, help a total stranger?" You looked at Scott in awe. There were very few people willing to put their lives on the line to help a total stranger. Scott simply gave you a well-worn smile, like he'd practised it many times before. A smile that said 'you're not the first stray we've taken under our wing'. In a way, he reminded you of your older brother. They both have that annoying to God hero complex. Then, like a bolt of lightning striking twice, you remembered the devastating state of the animal clinic. "Shit! The clinic. How the hell am I going to explain what happened?"

Scott put a hand on your shoulder, "Don't worry. We have a sheriff in our pocket."

"What? The town's sheriff knows about werewolves?"

"He should. He's Stiles's dad after all."

"Who are you people?" You were completely dumbfounded by the level of transparency going on in this town. Maybe moving here for a fresh start away from all things supernatural wasn't the best idea.

"Actually," Liam's voice erupted from the entrance, he tried to take the steps gracefully but wound up almost tripping on an untied shoelace. He was flush, probably ran here. "Most of the town knows.”

"The whole town?" This was getting out of hand. Does no one know the first rule of surviving as a supernatural is to keep their very existence secret? Moving here was definitely not the fresh start you needed. You were wracking your brain trying to think of the reason you chose to move to Beacon Hills. You were coming up empty.

"Prompt as usual Liam," Scott teased.

Liam gave him the closest thing to puppy eyes you had ever seen, then shrugged and said "Sorry. Overslept."

Scott made his way out of the bunker, giving you a sheepish wave, you noticed the circles under his eyes at that moment. He was probably more tired than he let on. Liam dug his fists into his jeans and walked towards you, a curious look in his eye. He stood close to you, his nose protruding away from his body. He looked like he was searching for something with his nose. Wait… Was he?

"Are you sniffing me?" You asked with a raised brow. Liam almost seemed to jump from embarrassment.

"Sorry. I was just trying to see if I could sense your..." He stumbled around trying to find the right word.

"My being a werewolf?" He nodded. You giggled a little. "Unlikely. When you don't shift for a prolonged amount of time, the gap between your werewolf and human side grows." You touched your neck wound. Soon you'd probably no longer be able to heal faster than normal people.

Liam noticed your wistful expression and cleared his throat, "So, what do you want to do? We could leave the bunker. I'm sure you're tired of being cooped up in here."

"Is that a good idea?"

"Sure, as long as I'm on guard duty and you don't get kidnapped by tree people."

Your mood suddenly picked up. You knew exactly what you wanted to do. "How do you feel about unpacking boxes?"

***

Derek and Peter were walking silently side by side somewhere in the woods. Derek had a permanent scowl on his face. Even his stride was faster and more purposeful than usual and Peter noticed.

"You've been awfully quiet," Peter remarked as he walked with less purpose and more leisure than his brooding nephew.

"Don't have anything to say."

Peter rolled his eyes, "So you dragged me out to the woods for some Uncle-Nephew bonding time? Gotta say, you're doing such a good job. Bonding requires actual, you know, bonding. We can start with some small talk."

Derek simply ignored Peter and continued walking on.

"Okay, I'll start. That Doctor, she's quite easy on the eyes. Not to mention, very damaged. All that emotional baggage of watching her poor boyfriend die. But hey, from all the sexual chemistry I noticed between you two of you --" Peter was cut off by a very annoyed Derek suddenly grabbing the collar of his V-neck shirt. "Ahhk, careful! This is Armani."

Peter stared into Derek's angry glare and everything fell into place. It was like a light bulb went off in his head. "Oh, that's why you've been more broody than usual. You like the good doctor, don't you?"

Derek let out a deep sigh and let go of Peter's collar. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. He had played right into Peter's manipulative hands. He'd overreacted. "Don't be ridiculous."

"So that kiss was just what? A European handshake?" Peter teased like the smug bastard he was.

Derek's brows rose up in surprise, finally ending his permanent scowls reign on his face. "How did you?"

After a beat of letting his nephew stew about in his shocked disposition, Peter finally reminded him, "The dream state? You may not have seen me, but I saw everything too. And from what I saw, she could do with a few counts of therapy."

"Don't be an ass."

"Fine, then tell me where we're going!"

"The root cellar. Alyster mentioned a 'Mother Tree'. The root cellar is right below the Nemeton."

Peter rolled his eyes, "Last year’s news. Get to the part that makes me go 'Oh!'"

Derek rolled his eyes, "In the dream state I saw a symbol. A tattoo. I think I've seen it before, in the root cellar where Pai--" His eyes turned dark from the bitter taste of that particular memory. Peter's face was no longer smug, he decided it was better if he say nothing. But being accommodating wasn't his winning quality.

"So, Y/N… She a good kisser?"

"Peter!"

He shrugged, "What? I'm just making small talk."

Derek began walking again, "Well, stop."

Peter hurried after him, "Ah, the youth. No time for the little things anymore."

After what felt like hours, Derek and Peter finally stumbled upon familiar ground. Derek did most of the heavy lifting, trying to make a path to the collapsed root cellar. Peter stood over his shoulder barking orders on how to clear the rubble. "No not that one, move the other one, it's bigger."

"You're welcome to come down here and help!"

"I already am!"

Derek sighed what was probably his hundredth sigh of the day. After clearing a path, both Hale boys went under the unstable structure. Derek's eyes grew cold and dark when he spotted the blood stain that haunted the cellar. He pushed his feelings under the surface and tried to ignore it. Even Peter was dishevelled by it, but he too swallowed hard and tried to ignore it.

"Here," Derek said, his eyes were their wolfish blue to see better. His hand was tracing the weird carved symbol on a snaky root.

"Is that the--".

"Celtic five-fold knot? Yes." Derek said grimly.

"So what, you think Jennifer's behind all this? Because I can assure you, she's very dead."

Derek wrestled with the idea for a bit, but considered it impossible, "No, she used the knot as a way to channel the power from her 'sacrifices'." Derek spit out the words like venom. "I'm thinking the Order of Sagittarius use it for the same purpose. Somehow, when they kill someone, it's like they absorb their essence. I think all this is linked to a Nemeton. A much older one."

"That's a bit of a reach, don't you think?"

Derek smirked at Peter, "You got another explanation as to what Mother Tree means? Or how the head hunter somehow absorbed Alex's… essence? Or the fact they can disappear into trees apparently?"

"No…" Peter saw merit in Derek's train of thought, didn't mean he enjoyed him being right. "But this is a druid symbol and our friendly neighbourhood vet seems to be otherwise occupied."  

"Guess we'll have to do things the old fashioned way." He took his phone out of his pocket and waved it about. But first, Derek had to make a pit stop at the animal clinic. "Go ahead and fill the others in. There's something I need to do first."

***

You were absentmindedly leaning against the counter of your kitchen island. A hot cup of tea pressed between your palms. The steam formed curtains of white, blurring your vision. You kept moving the rim of the cup from side to side on your bottom lip -that feeling from earlier never left. You kept feeling like you forgot something. You had your keys and the stove wasn't on when you got home but the feeling refused to subside. In the background, you heard Liam and his friend, Mason -who he called to help with the unpacking of boxes- chatting.

"So then he tried to kiss me, and I didn't know what to do so I just turned my head and pretended to sneeze really loudly."

Your skin prickled a little when you heard Mason say kiss. What happened in the dream state? What were you forgetting?

"Didn't you tell him you're with Corey?"

"Well… not really. I said I was with someone, but long-distance means I don't get to see Corey as much as I'd like. So, I'm always going solo to everything. _Always._ " Mason said with a hint of dramatic flare. Liam let out a soft chuckle.

A knocking sound emanated from your doorway. The door was wide open to let the warm light of the golden hour into your living room. The knock was more a courtesy than a necessity.

"Hey, Derek. What are you doing here? Thought I'd be guarding Y/N till sundown?"

"Just here to drop something off," Derek answered. His voice was like a cooling breeze stirring you from thought. You felt hyper-aware all of a sudden. Like someone poured ice water down your back. And because the universe was always pulling rugs from under your feet, of course you were still wearing the dishevelled baggy clothes you had taken a nap in. You set your cup of tea down when Derek walked into your kitchen. He stopped for a second, studying your face like he was waiting for you to do or say something, but you didn't. Something about the way he held himself felt different. He seemed… almost self-conscious. It was jarring to see him look vulnerable, even if it only lasted for a few seconds.

Derek looked around your newly unpacked kitchen, "Hmmm… I think an old friend of mine in high school used to live here once. The house looks different though."

You felt cheeky all of a sudden, "Couldn't lead with a simple _Hello_?"

He looked you dead in the eyes, "Simple isn't in my nature." There was a bit of fire in his words. In the background, you heard Mason whistle lowly and something that sounded like a smack followed by a disapproving "Ow!" Derek smirked at the whole situation.

"Tea?"

"No, thanks." He walked closer to you, out of the view of the boys in your living room. "I came to drop this by and tell you everything with the animal clinic has been sorted. Talked to the Sheriff about what happened." Derek handed you the family picture that had been on your desk before the attack. There was a crack in the glass and a tear in the photo from an arrowhead.

A smile crept onto your face as you took the photograph. Your fingers touched for a moment and you felt a jolt. In your peripheral you saw Derek wrestle with his own face muscles, he was trying to keep a straight face. Then an image of a frantic Derek trying to wake you snuck into your mind. And like an elastic band returning after being stretched, you finally knew what had been haranguing you all day. _The kiss_. Your heart began to race and a flush raced to your cheeks too. You shook the memory away and tried to act as nothing had changed. Only, everything had changed. Were you attracted to Derek?

“Th-Thank you,” your gratitude came out as little more than a whisper, but you knew his wolf hearing picked it up just fine. You looked up to his eye-line, “I…” The golden light made his green eyes appear mystical. His piercing gaze threatened to drown you in a sea of green.

The sound of Derek's phone ringing shifted the tense atmosphere in the room giving you a chance to take a breath. Derek’s mood shifted. On the other end of the line, you could hear Scott say, "We may have a small problem."

Great! So now, not only was an all-powerful group of supernatural hunters gunning for you but apparently, there was yet another thing to add to your growing list of problems. And not to mention the mixed feelings you were struggling to decipher about your kiss with Derek.

 


	9. Follow the Rabbit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** Sorry for the cold open... I swear it snuck up on me too! Hello Mexico, I see you. Is the gang going back? You betcha. And excuse the very SUDDEN appearance of a character I never even bothered to foreshadow because... let’s be real, did anyone like them as a villain? I didn’t.  
>  **Note:** Reader’s last name is **Markolf**. *** means change in POV/time.  
>  **Words: 2026** (this is a shorter chapter)  
>  **Warnings:** Violence, swearing and A COLD OPEN!  
>  **[Song:** [_It's You_](https://open.spotify.com/track/0874CiZj1X2vZf7TtYTTPC?si=AZ_-R2Z6QtmPT1Wj7zbUVw) by **Rique |** _[High](https://open.spotify.com/track/7wYrc3r17ExXnbzyFcvxwn?si=yTH7ygtnSo6DqmaakZBDxg) _by **Zella Day]**  
> 

( _gif not mine)_

Liam was tied down to a chair with wolfs-bane laced ropes in an abandoned warehouse. The sting of the ropes digging into his skin was painful but bearable. It was the rancid smell of death that bothered him. How many of his kind had been killed here? All he could do was hope he wouldn't be next. In front of him were two of Monroe's men armed with guns, they were his prison guards.

After a few minutes, Monroe emerged from behind a plastic sheet acting as a divider. She sauntered over in combat boots and a green camo ensemble.

"The Beta," she spoke at him rather than to him, dragging a metal chair from nearby. She made sure to generate as much noise as she possibly could from the cold steel of the chair and the bare concrete of the floor. It was torture to his wolf hearing. "What's your name again? Leon?"

"Liam," he spit back.

"Ah, Liam," she pulled out a knife from her boot holster. "Tell me, Liam. Where is your alpha? Where is Scott McCall? I know he's here with you. My men spotted him just before they took you."

Liam kept his eyes focused on the scrape marks left on the floor by the chairs legs.

"Silent type?" she said in annoyance. With quicker reflexes than he would have given her credit, Monroe grabbed his collar and forced him to meet her eyes. They were wired and fully unhinged, "You are lucky my men didn't kill you right there and then! The only reason you're alive is because you know where Scott is. Tell us and we let you go." She tried to normalise her octaves to resonate calm, but her heartbeat gave her away. She was lying.

"Screw you!" Liam said venomously. Making sure to give her a shit-eating grin to boot.

Monroe struck him and he coughed. She walked around him to whisper in his ear, "Your kind thinks they're so special. Don't be so inclined to underestimate me." She warned. Liam felt her arm ghost his shoulders.

"Trust _me_ , I would never be so foolish as to underestimate _you_." Liam chuckled lowly.

"Should we kill him?" One of her drones asked.

She cocked her head to the side as though his words were utter gibberish. Then sighing with exhaustion she turned and said, "No, you idiot. We need him. Go check on his restraints, make sure they're _tight_." Monroe walked away and disappeared behind the plastic curtain.

After the guards checked his bonds, they left the room and went out for a smoke by the scent that clung to their clothes.

Liam generated some noise by shuffling his chair to see if anyone would come after him. Dead silence. Then, with surprising ease, he used his claws to snap the binds around his wrists and feet and made a run for it. Though, he wasn't very stealthy.

***

"Should we go after him?" someone asked Monroe. She rolled her eyes and looked down at her phone screen. A small red dot was moving, with great speed, away from the abandoned factory. She had placed a tracker on the young Beta.

"Not yet. He'll lead us to Scot McCall and the rest of his pack. Only then do we kill him." The rest of her men began gearing up. "Leave a few men to make sure our guest in the basement stays put," she ordered.

"Yes, Ma'am!"

"The rest of you, with me."

***

The strobe lights within the makeshift rave inside an abandoned building complex were pulsating in vivid colours. The gyroscope swivelled round in epileptic fits, the intensity of the multi-coloured lights felt like they could burn through your retinas. The room was warm and sticky, the thick scent of sweat, perfumes and smoke bombarded your senses. Alcohol sloshed about from plastic cups leaving wet splotches on the floor. The DJ kept teasing a good bass drop only to disappoint each time, not that the rest of the club-goers cared. They came here to lose themselves. To forget. Metamorphosize into a separate entity from who they were during the day. An indulgent escape.

A part of you envied them. You envied the simplicity of getting buzzed on cheap booze and dancing to terrible music as a way to escape your problems. But you weren't in college anymore. And quite frankly, your problems weren't so easily escapable. Your nerves were on edge. Being in unfamiliar territory surrounded by oblivious civilians about to execute what could single-handedly be the dumbest plan you ever heard of wasn't exactly a confidence booster. But it's not like you weren't to blame for your participation. After all, you did volunteer to be the bait!

You glanced behind you as you made your way to the centre of the dancing crowd, Derek kept his eyes trained on you from the floor above. Scott was probably on the same level as you -obscured by the masses no doubt. You found a spot between two intoxicated women and began to sway your hips to the beat.

***

Derek watched you try your hardest to move to the beat, but he could tell you weren't in your element. No one should be sober in a night club. Watching you brought a cheeky smile to his face, he almost had the urge to laugh a little.

His phone chimed in his pocket. On the dance floor a few feet from you, he noticed Scott get the same message.

Peter's text message read: "We're in position." A few seconds later Liam sent a message of his own: "They took the bait. They're heading your way!"

Derek looked down at Scott and spoke just loud enough for his wolf hearing to pick up, "Guess it’s show time."

Scott nodded in acknowledgement and made his way to the door that led to the stairs leading up to the roof.

"We're all gonna die," Derek sighed to himself, bunching up his fists in anticipation for a fight.

**-72 HOURS EARLIER-**

Peter made his way to the Bunker expecting it to be vacant only to be greeted by a sleep-deprived Stiles and a ruffled Scott.

"Ah, if it isn’t Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum," Peter said with a smug smile, crossing his legs at the ankle as he leaned against the table where Stiles had stacked various books, files and his laptop. "How did you guys get here so quickly? I just left Derek at the animal clinic half an hour ago."

Stiles took a sip from his FBI branded travel mug, "Well, unlike _some_ people, we don't spend hours grooming our hair before a meet."

Peter was about to quip back but Scott stepped in, "Why'd you call us anyway?"

"Derek found something. He seems to think your former boss may be able to shed some light on our new hunter problem," he said. "As if we didn't already have hunter problems," Peter whispered exasperatedly to himself -no doubt in reference to Tamora Monroe.

"I haven't spoken to Deaton in months. The last person to see him was probably Y/N," Scott revealed. Peter was surprised by this. "I'll give him a call."

Scott pulled out his phone and dialled. The number went to voicemail after a few rings. There was an air of uncertainty in the room. Stiles waved his hands about in an urging manner for Scott to try again. He did. Still, no answer.

"Oh," Stiles snapped his fingers to keep his train of thought from getting away from him, "What about our former guidance counsellor? She's his… sister right? Try her!"

"Bold of you to assume I have the number of everyone in Beacon Hills," Scott muttered.

Stiles threw his hands up in the air, "Must I think of everything myself?" He stood up and after tapping away at his phone, he dialled a number.

"That's my line," Peter scowled under his breath.

After a few minutes of conversation and arguing on Stiles's end he finally ended his call and triumphantly threw his hand up in the air. "Yes!" He cheered, "Who is a badass FBI agent?" No one answered his rhetorical question, he simply shrugged the silence off and continued tooting his own horn, "This guy!"

Peter rotated his hand, "Get to the point Tweedle-Dum."

"I called Eichen House and after having to strong arm a very rude receptionist… I convinced them to give me the last number on file. Apparently, she doesn't work there anymore."

"Did you really think she'd still be working there? After everything that happened?" Scott asked.

"No, but we got the number didn't we?" Stiles dialled the new number and after a few rings a familiar voice picked up.

"Hello?" Marin Morrell spoke, unsure of who was on the other line.

"Ugh, Ms Morrell?" Silence, "It's me, Stiles. Stilinski. Stiles Stilinski the kid who had an evil Japanese trickster god living inside him."

"I know who you are Stiles," she said flatly, "How'd you get my number?"

"Unimportant. We're trying to get in contact with Deaton, he isn't picking up his phone. Know where he is?"

"I don't know. Last I heard he was called to help a werewolf out in Mexico." Marin paused, "If you hear from him… tell him to call me."

"Will do. Thanks." Stiles cut the call. "Apparently he's out in Mexico somewhere."

Peter's head snapped up, "Mexico?"

"Yes. Meh-hi-coh! Are you deaf?"

"What is it?" Scott asked Peter.

"Monroe is in Mexico."

They all glanced at each other before simultaneously saying, "Shit!"  

After a beat, Scott dialled Derek's number. When he picked up he simply said, "We have a problem." And with that all three fully exhausted men waited silently in the bunker for you, Derek and Liam to arrive.

***

"And you're sure it's not just a coincidence?" Derek asked.

"What, that Monroe just happens to be in the very city where Deaton was supposed to be before he… stopped answering his phone?" Stiles pointed out.

It was then that you recognised the name 'Monroe'. You'd heard it before. Whispered among certain circles, a hunter with quite the track record of growing acolytes and werewolf deaths. Things just went from complicated to bat shit crazy! You sighed and felt the inklings of a headache forming.

"And how do you know Monroe's in Mexico?" Derek interrogated Peter.

Feeling cornered, Peter folded his arms around his chest and put up an invisible barrier. "Am I the only person that has the head smarts to keep tabs on the people who try to kill us?"

"Stop deflecting," Derek warned -a sharp edge in his tone.

"But that wasn't deflecting, I'm serious. I'm keeping tabs. Through a proxy, of course."

"Who?" Liam asked.

Peter wiggled his index finger about, "Uh-uh, can't have me revealing all my secrets."

"Okay, baring all this for a moment," Stiles jumped in, "How are we gonna rescue Deaton from a group of hunters while we ourselves are being hunted by another group of hunters."

A terrible idea was beginning to form in your mind. "Hey, I know that look. That's the 'I have an idea look'!" Stiles pointed at you dawning everyone’s attention to you. You sighed. Damn your expressive eyebrows and squinting tendencies!

"An idea, yes. A good one, no." All the boys simply looked on waiting for you to elaborate. Somehow, having Derek stare at you while you stirred up the courage to get the words out made you feel like a teenager around her high-school crush; shrinking beneath his powerful gaze, the threat of stammering, a noticeable flush in your cheeks. You balled your fists and willed yourself to get a grip. No man, no matter how damned gorgeous and brooding, would ever make you regress to the shy girl you used to be.

"Well, first things first, we'll need an easily defensible position. Preferably a place with multiple exits. And secondly, we'll need someone to play the rabbit and someone to be the bait… We're gonna use fire to fight fire."

Peter's face lit up with what could only be defined as malicious intent, "I like her!" he applauded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> 
> 
> * * *
> 
> **Chapter 10 coming soon!** _(also let me know if you would prefer to get what the plan was from context clues or if I should write the planning bit -I’m torn.)_  
> [My Tumblr](https://scribeofmorpheus.tumblr.com) and don't forget to leave a kudos, comment or even an emoji! It would mean the world to me!


	10. The Eye of the Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has multiple perspective changes.

**_Previously:  
_ **

**_Derek_ ** _watched you try your hardest to move to the beat, but he could tell you weren't in your element. No one should be sober in a night club. Watching you brought a cheeky smile to his face, he almost had the urge to laugh a little._

_His phone chimed in his pocket. On the dance floor a few feet from you, he noticed Scott get the same message. Peter's text message read: "We're in position." A few seconds later Liam sent a message of his own: "They took the bait. They're heading your way!" Derek looked down at Scott and spoke just loud enough for his wolf hearing to pick up, "Guess its show time." Scott nodded in acknowledgement and made his way to the stairs leading up to the roof._

_"We're all gonna die," Derek sighed to himself, bunching up his fists in anticipation for a fight._

_Derek melted further into the crowd until it thinned out to nothing more than one or two people using the empty space to make out and be alone. He pushed through, a part of him feeling uneasy at having lost sight of you on the ground floor, but he had a role to play just as you did. He reached a door that led onto a structurally unsound balcony and pushed it open. On the floor was a bag full of equipment and specially crafted grenades. He picked up the bag and made for the stairs that led further up._

***

Liam ran as fast as his human legs would let him. He refused to change under the circumstances. He needed to keep his senses sharp, but more importantly, he needed to stay in control. His heart hammered against his ribcage vigorously. He could taste the metallic tang of his own blood from where Monroe struck him, rage bubbling to the surface. Rage he had to contain for the fight they'd undoubtedly face in the next few minutes.

When Liam reached the abandoned church they had chosen for their plan of attack, he was surprised to find it illuminated by flashing lights and loud music blaring out of unsound window structures.

His phone beeped, displaying a message from Peter. He was in position and soon Liam would be too.

In swift motions, Liam pulled his phone out, typed away a message and sent it out to the group chat before tossing the tracker Monroe slipped in his pocket into a crack on the side of the church. With his part handled, Liam made for the next rendezvous point.

***

Peter kept his distance from the warehouse where Monroe made her base of operations. He was far enough to avoid visual detection but close enough to eavesdrop on conversations. Peter would never grow tired of his werewolf advantages. He could hear the faint sounds of metal scratching on the untiled floor. It was irritating.

"Should we go after him?" He heard an unfamiliar voice say.

He smirked to himself when he caught wind of Monroe ushering her orders to the rest of her men, "Not yet. He'll lead us to Scot McCall and the rest of his pack. Only then do we kill him." And then after a pause: "Leave a few men to make sure our guest in the basement stays put."

Peter's smile grew wider. That's the confirmation he needed. And with most of Monroe's men leaving the compound and heading out after Liam, his half of the plan was shaping up to be a piece of cake.

Stiles peeked around the abandoned vehicle they used as cover and turned to say something but was caught off guard by Peter's devilish grin. "Jesus!" He said in freight.

"Shh!" Peter rebutted aggressively.

Stiles's eyes went wide and looked at him accusingly, "Don't 'Shhh' me. Next time don't grin like an idiot. I thought you were going to eat me for a second there."

"If you don't shut up, I just might..." Peter threatened.

"Why'd they have to stick us together?" Stiles whined

Peter rolled his eyes and crouched closer to the warehouse, "You volunteered."

Stiles scampered after him, half tripping over a rock. When he secured his footing he said, "Yes, because I don't trust you. You always have an angle."

Peter looked down at Stiles unimpressed, "And even if I did, what was your grand plan to stop me?"

Stiles thought hard on his question and his face contorted in a thoughtful expression, but the only words out of his mouth were, "Ahhhhh, I'm still working on it."

"Come on," Peter sighed, using his strength to hoist Stiles through a window with one arm. Stiles, unprepared, made a freakishly feminine sound. Peter jumped in after him. "Here," he held out his phone, "Tell the rest of the team we're in position."

Peter took in his surroundings. The building was bare, except for a few crates of ammunition and possibly some technical equipment. There was a metal chair with rope next to it in the centre. Peter guessed that was where they had Liam tied up. When Stiles was done, he handed the phone back to Peter and asked: "What now?"

"Now, we look for the good druid."

"Right," Stiles said with purpose. He took a determined step forward, his foot crashing against an empty paint can. His eyes went wide giving Peter an 'Oops' shrug. Peter put his face in his hands and shook his head.

"Quietly."

"Right. Quietly."

***

As you swayed your body from side to side, you couldn't help but feel uneasy. Your mind kept racing through every aspect of the plan and how easily it could all fall apart. The music was loud and distracting, you were thankful for that. At the very least, you wouldn't have to strain yourself to keep mindful of any creak, footstep or distressing sounds. It meant that for now, you could try and lose yourself in the moment, among all the other alcohol-fuelled bodies grinding close to one another. Your mind wandered back to a memory from earlier.

_You and Derek hoped out of the off-road vehicle you'd rented for the trip in Mexico. His eyes were shielded from the brutal sun by a pair of Ray-bans. You couldn't help but notice just how well they framed his face, making him look all the more mysterious -and sexy as hell. He walked to the edge of the road and stood there with his arms folded over his chest. You walked over to stand by his side._

_"This the place?" You asked, taking in the underwhelming appearance of the destitute church._

_"Yeah. It's perfect. Easily fortifiable. Many exits and there's an old tunnel system that was built under it. There's a dense treeline not too far south -if we still believe those hunters travel through trees." Derek shook his head, still finding a hint of absurdity in what he just said. "It should work for our purposes."_

_You unfolded your map and looked at your position -far from any towns to avoid an incident yet close to several abandoned buildings in case you needed a place to lay low, if things went bad. "And the locals?" you asked._

_Derek's eyebrows furrowed beneath his glasses, "Should be empty. Most locals won’t come here."_

_You were about to ask him why, but he looked down at you and shrugged, "Local curse. Something about ghosts." was all he said._

_"Is it real?"_

_"Don't know." He looked at you with a playful smile on his face, "But all I know is that this place should be good and empty tonight."_

_"And we just have to hope those hunters want me bad enough to cross borders for… If they even perceive travel the same way we do.”_

How could any of you have known that a bunch of rebellious teenagers would choose to host a rave in the very same church you'd chosen to have your showdown?

After a few minutes of fumbling around, trying to seem like you were having a good time, a loud noise sounded throughout the age-old structure. It didn't help that the acoustics in the church were amazing either. Instinctively, you brought your hands to your ears and crouched lower -and apparently, so did everyone else. The DJ stopped playing his music and everyone looked to where the sound had come from with wide eyes and confused expressions.

By the double doors of the church, you saw a woman stand with legs far apart. A large party of men wearing patched-together tactical gear stood behind her. Her face stern and her eyes filled with cold distaste, she looked like a woman ready for war. When you noticed the shotgun in her hand letting off wisps of hot smoke, you knew instantly what the sound had been and who she was.

"Monroe," you whispered.

"Party's over," she said coolly. When no one moved, she cocked her shotgun and took a step forward. "I. Said. Party's over!"

As the crowd thinned out, you had a hard time keeping your ground. Everywhere around you, elbows, arms and legs kept bumping into you. You were just thankful there wasn’t a large enough crowd to cause a stampede. As you began to make your way to cover, Monroe spoke again and this time you were shocked to learn she was addressing you.

"Not you!" Monroe shouted. She nodded her head at one of her men and they took her order without the need for words. Two men walked over to you and grabbed your shoulders. Dragging you along towards their leader.

You wanted to ask what this was all about, why she chose to single you out of the crowd, but you figured such questions were irrelevant. Somehow, you always ended up at the centre of trouble.

"You look familiar…" She turned your chin from side to side with her long, calloused fingers. "Why is that?" She squinted her eyes at you.

You chose to stay quiet.

The church was all but empty now, except for you, Scott, Monroe and Derek -who seemed to have disappeared in all the excitement.

Behind you, two bodies hit the ground from the second-floor railing with a padded thud. "Let her go, Monroe!" Scott's voice spoke out, slightly muffled by his fangs. "It's me you want!"

"Scott McCall. The Alpha!" She bellowed rousingly. "All alone? Now, now, Scott..." Monroe let go of your face and walked towards the centre of the room, "You aren't planning something are you?"

"Against you and your men? You and I both know who has the numbers in that fight," Scott said bitterly.

"You're not wrong there. The werewolf population has hit staggering all-time lows recently. And as much as I'd love for me and my hunter's to take all the credit, it seems our efforts have inspired a few others to join in the hunt."

"You and your men aren't hunters. They have a code. You're just murderers who use fear and intimidation to brainwash people into becoming murderers too!" Scott was practically foaming at the mouth. You'd never seen him so filled with rage before. His eyes darted towards the church's entrance and then back to you, and finally onto Monroe. You could've sworn you saw his lips twitch into a secret smile for a second. You looked behind you and saw something whoosh past the entrance at inhuman speeds.

"Enough talk! Get down so we can end this once and for all!" Monroe ordered. Dropping her shotgun on the ground, one of her men jogged to her side and handed her two stun rods. She grabbed them eagerly and twirled them between her fingers gracefully. "You don't know how long I've been waiting for this fight!"

Scott's phone chimed. He looked down at the screen and his red eyes lit up with satisfaction. "Yes, you're right. Enough talk."

"Come on!" She shouted.

Scott jumped off the second-floor railing and landed two feet in front of Monroe, his teeth and claws fully transformed. He scratched at the wooden floor with predatory menace and roared, craning his neck to the roof, before charging Monroe. You tried to move, but the guards simply tightened their grip on your arm and shook you to stay in place. You gritted your teeth to keep from swearing.

Scott paired attack after attack and Monroe, who was somehow able to keep up with Scott's slashes and clawing advances, managed to parry and counter nearly every motion with skilled precision. You had never seen a human hold their own against an Alpha with such determination before. She truly was a force to reckon with. As they fought, you began to notice the wind grew more and more restless. Moisture clung to the air and you could almost smell rain.

Scott lured Monroe close by letting his defences down, she managed to strike him in the chest, but he had flung the baton away before she could stun him. Making haste as to not waste his new opening, Scott ducked, swivelled and wrapped his claws around Monroe's neck as they stood back to back. Then in an instant, he sent her hurdling with great momentum towards a series of pews. Her body flipped and landed on the ground hard. She struggled to sit up, a cloud of dust heaved into the air by a wet cough. Scott stalked towards her with caution.

"It's over Monroe."

She spat blood onto the floor and wiped her mouth, a grin giving way to the view of white enamel stained by dark blood. "Is it?"

She pulled out a baton from underneath her body and zapped him with a surge of lethal volts that sent his body curdling to the floor with a painful yelp. Monroe placed her knee on Scott's chest as she tased him again and again. The room filling with painful grunts and a sickening laugh.

You began to flash back to that night in the woods. Scott's face morphing into Alex's and then back again. His screams becoming Scott's grunts. Monroe's laugh turning more masculine, hollow. Her face transitioning between Alyster's and her own. You shook your head, unable to trust your mind at that moment. "Stop," you whispered. "Stop. Stop, STOP!"

Thunder rumbled and a flash of dry lightning filled the space, blinding and white. When everyone regained their stances and blinked the bright spots away, you noticed Scott looking at you with a strange expression on his face. Monroe too.

"Your eyes..." Monroe whispered.

Suddenly, the wind became angry and it felt as though the temperature had dropped by several degrees. The doors and windows began to swing violently against rusty hinges. The whole church sounded like it was creaking in protest. Out of every shadow and dark corner bodies wearing ancient armour began to advance. Their eyes were practically lifeless. A chill crept up your spine and you had the unexplainable urge to look behind you. Like something was beckoning you towards it, despite your body's protests in fear. You craned your neck and when you saw what it was… who it was, your mouth turned dry and your nose began to choke on non-existent smoke.

A paling man with long, thin red hair held out one single bony finger, his voice as coarse as shards of glass cutting through vocal cords, "Give us the girl." He said calmly. The device around his neck -the Oculus- began to glow its sickly green colour. Tendrils of bright green light began to flow outward, seeking you out. The closer the tendrils got, the greater the feeling of dread filled your gut. But what appeared to unnerve you the most, was that no one else noticed the green tendrils snaking closer and closer towards you.

"What is this?" Monroe asked with a shaky voice. She swivelled her head from side to side, her face filled with fear as she realised they were all surrounded.

One of her men got trigger happy and unloaded his clip into the chest of a mouthless creature. When all his bullets were lodged into its chest, it looked down at the destruction done to its chest with a displeased expression, it shook a single digit in dismay as black oozed out of its wounds and the next thing you knew, the man was on the floor, blood pouring out of his neck. A wrenching gurgling noise escaping his throat. The creature had been so fast, you never once saw him reach for a weapon.

Scott used Monroe's state of distraction to kick her in the stomach and crawl out from under her knee. She staggered back and held her hand out to one of her men. As one of her men tossed her a machine gun, Scott shouted, "Now!"

Out of nowhere, several smoke grenades cluttered around the feet of Monroe's soldiers and the Order's. The room filled with smoke that held a familiar tinge to it -sage. Then you saw a dark figure ghost around the two men who had held you, sending them flying back into the growing smoke. You noticed the tendrils disappear behind the curtain of growing smoke. You took out the bandana you had stashed in your back pocket and tied it around your nose. The figure stood with an intimidating presence between you and your enemies. A loud aggressive roar filled the room and familiar bright blue eyes looked at you with a soft reassurance.

"Derek?"

The obscured figure tilted its head slightly, its eyes growing softer at the mention of his name. It _was_ Derek. Through the smoke, you could hear more gunshots and grunts. Knowing you couldn't see as well as him, Derek acting as your shield, began to inch backwards slowly, his claws opened wide at either of your sides. You followed his direction and allowed him to inch you backwards until you bumped against another person’s back. You jumped and quickly turned, relieved to be greeted by Scott's glowing eyes.

"Well, we did it. We got them here." You said wistfully.

"That was the easy part," Derek said.

"Easy for you to say," Scott rubbed his ribs where Monroe had tased him repeatedly.

"You survived didn't you?" Derek said.

"Regardless, let's just hope Liam and your contact follow through in time," you said.

"She will," was all Derek said in reply.

Even though his position was obscured by the mess of fighting bodies and thick smoke, you heard the familiar dark voice of Alyster issue his commands, "Astrid, bring me the girl. Kaze, deal with this smoke."

A light, feminine voice spoke out in Japanese, "Okonawa  remasu."

_It is done_

With those words, the wind began to pick up again as though it was under someone’s spell. It howled like an unwelcome spectre, taking old window shutters off their hinges and moving several pieces of derelict furniture with it. The smoke was beginning to clear and you could see an outline of a petite woman with short, jet black hair at the epicentre of where the strong winds were generated from. Her eyes not glowing, but almost shimmering a dull grey.

Scott shielded his eyes from the drying winds. He looked over at the woman and uttered: "Kitsune."

When the wind began to return to normal the whistling of an arrow whizzed towards you. Out of your peripheral, a small object blurred past you just as Derek used his body to move you close to the ground. He snapped up swiftly, bringing his hand to grasp something close to his face. With a crack, Derek snapped the arrow he had stopped close to his eye and it cluttered to the floor. He growled, bringing his claws to an attack position as Astrid -the archer- nocked another arrow from her vantage point two flights up. A wicked grin on her face showing just how much she was enjoying the chaos around her.

"Idag tar du ditt sista andetag, Varg!" Astrid said triumphantly.

_Today you breathe your last breath, Wolf!_

"Whatever you said, I can assure you, thing's aren't gonna go your way!" Derek warned, chucking a large piece of debris at her.

Astrid nimbly dodged his projectile and climbed one level down by vaulting off the second floor and catching the railing on the first floor. When she had her footing she nocked two arrows simultaneously, they had wedged themselves into two of Monroe's men who were about to flank from Derek's sides.

Derek looked shocked. "You're mine, Wolf!" Astrid said as she aimed a new arrow at Derek's chest.

As Derek dodged each arrow by a razor's edge, Scott set his sights on the non-threatening looking Kitsune who smiled pleasantly. Her eyes peacefully closed as though she were meditating in a Zen garden. Enclosing around her was a swarm of Monroe's men. Once in position, several of them raised their sights on her. Scott could do nothing but watch with curiosity.

Behind you, you felt the cold air of the green tendrils get close to your skin. When you looked down, you noticed one tendril was within an inch of your wrist. You gasped and yanked your arm away. Derek and Scott heard your gasp and turned to see if someone had broken through their protective circle, they hadn't. Puzzled they looked away and returned their attention to their opponents.  

The men surrounding the Kitsune fired off their weapons but were dismayed to realise their bullets had been swept up in a miniature tornado. The furniture and dust began to slowly move towards the spin force generated by the tornado until it stopped and reversed in direction. All the bullets trapped in the spinning air were now released back to the men who shot them out.

Hundreds of bullets swerved and curved around pillars and walls to embed themselves into Monroe's men. Scott and Derek instantly reached for you and both of them pushed your shoulders down as they ducked for cover too. Just then you felt your whole body go limp as a coldness took over your body. Your body was paralysed and all you could do was look down at your ankle where a green tendril had wrapped itself around you.

Time slowed, sound vanished and your vision was filled with nothing but the green smoke of the Oculus and the sight of a weary-looking Alyster. His eyes met yours with a chilling snap. His lips slowly, painfully, tugging towards his eyes to form an unnerving smile.

"Come with us, and all this chaos can end. Come with us and I'll tell you the truth," his words swarmed around your brain. It was then that you realised he was inside your head. You tried to shake him out, to scream for him to shut up, but you were motionless, voiceless and completely helpless. "Come with us and you will learn of your importance to the Order... And the fate of the world."


	11. Deus-Ex-Machina

Liam paced about in the dark, heart thundering in his chest. Derek's contact was late. This was making him jumpy. He glanced at his watch once, twice, a third time -still nothing. He was about to make a U-turn and head for the church when his keen wolf ears picked up on the sound of a motorcycle growling in the distance. The scent of gasoline and carbon monoxide mixing in with the crisp night air. She was here.

"You’re late," he said sheepishly as Braeden took off her helmet and turned her keys in the ignition. The bright beams turning as dead as a doornail as soon as she dismounted.

"I'm never late," she retorted as she chucked a duffle bag at Liam.

"Jesus," he jumped, eyes wide. "Are you insane?"

Braeden chuckled, her eyes rolling backwards, "Relax, kid. They're inert in that state."

Liam unzipped the bag and examined the blocks of C4, and just as she said, they were inert. He exhaled while she fished a crowbar from her backpack and used it as a lever to lift an old sewer access grate.

***

_"Come with us, and all this chaos can end. Come with us and I'll tell you the truth," Alyster's words swarmed around your brain. It was then that you realised he was inside your head. You tried to shake him out, to scream for him to shut up, but you were motionless, voiceless and completely helpless. "Come with us and you will learn of your importance to the Order... And the fate of the world."_

Around you, Derek and Scott and Monroe kept up their fight. The two wolves tried to keep you inside their protective circle as best they could, but it wasn’t an easy task. Your body was still paralysed -unresponsive.

Your ears picked up the sound of an angry growl. Derek pried an arrow out of his arm and snapped it with his teeth, eyes glowing a menacing blue. Scott kept up his fight with the air, the Kitsune besting most of his attacks with ease. Monroe seemed to be struggling the most, her gun was as efficient as using paper planes to break down brick walls. Her efforts were futile, but she persisted.

As strong as they were, you doubted they would be able to make it out alive. Not with the sheer, unbridled might of the Order barring down on them… on you. They may as well have been chew toys shivering in the presence of a wolf's razor-sharp canines. You were all going to die here -enemy, friend, and ally. It was only a matter of time.

You tried to force yourself to swallow the spit that accumulated in the back of your throat, but your body remained unmoving. At least your automatic reflexes were still working. At least you were breathing.

 _"If I agree to go with you_ ," you spoke in your mind -the place Alyster had intruded without permission. _"Will you let them live?"_

Alyster's eyes narrowed and it almost looked like his body was levitating towards you slowly _, "They are of no consequence to us. All we want is you."_

The coppery smell of blood tickled your nose. Someone was bleeding. And it was a lot of blood. But you couldn't tell who.

 _"Why me?"_ your voice was shaking like a leaf, even in your own headspace.

Alyster's disconcerting laugh echoed in your cranium, _"Because your blood is special. Your lineage is special. You are special."_

_"Will you kill me?"_

He paused, face almost remorseful, _"It cannot be avoided, but at least you can die knowing why. All you have to do to stop all this needless fighting is… submit."_

Your heart was in your throat, your nerves so fuelled by fear that you shook as though you were freezing to death. Acid and bile climbed out of your stomach and burned at your oesophagus. Temple throbbing.

 _"I..."_ your brain was on fire. Alyster's presence -his magic- being warded off like an invasive cancer. Blood streamed from your nose. The wolf inside you felt violated -angry. She was trying to rip him apart from inside you, the result was your own body's defences attacking itself. _"I--"_

Derek grabbed you by the arm violently, his claws nicking skin. It was then that you noticed the green tendrils hooked around you, luring you closer to Alyster, and further away from Scott and Derek.

"Y/N! What are you doing?" he demanded, nostrils flaring. His face was all bruised and cut up to hell, his shirt covered in blood and dirt. He pulled you back to his side and you felt Alyster's pull over you dissipate into a slight foggy sensation. The green tendrils had receded back into the Oculus. "Stay beside me!" he ordered in an alpha's voice as he held you behind his protective frame.

Scott darted back to your side, lugging a pew at the Kitsune in the process. " _She's_ late," he complained.

"She'll pull through, trust me," Derek replied.

Alyster shook his head in disappointment, an Irish lilt pulling at his consonants. "This could all have been so painless. When this all ends, I want you to know, this could all have been avoided."

Scott groaned, shattering a pew with a powerful stomp and throwing the splinters at Alyster with frightening precision, "Shut up already!"

The archer, Astrid, caught several pieces of debris in mid-air, a prideful smirk filling her features. She was about to advance, claws extended and arrows depleted, when Alyster wrapped a long-clawed hand around her wrist, a yellowish grin pulling his tight skin uncomfortably.

"I'll handle this."

And then he rose his hands, the green tendrils returning, picking up several pieces of debris, rock, wood and dislodging all the bullets that had been embedded inside walls and concrete. You were surrounded by a circular perimeter of suspended weaponry. You felt your skin prickle with goosebumps, the air turning colder than a cadaver.

 _So this is how it ends_? You lamented. Your hand entwining inside Derek's fully clawed hand. He snapped back to look at you as soon as your fingers slipped between the gaps of his. His features turning soft, even though he was half shifted. He squeezed your hand reassuringly, but it didn't feel like a last stand. It felt like he was reassuring you. Then, without warning, the ground shook and gave way beneath you, pulling you, Derek, Scott and Monroe into the darkness of an old, mouldy tunnel. The air was filled with cement dust and the smell of fire and plastique.

Derek steadied your body, keeping you on your feet. Liam winked at all three of you as soon as the dust cleared. “Missed me?” he cocked his head to the side.

A woman in leather with a four clawed slash on her neck was gripping four grenades. "Get down!" she warned as she tossed the four grenades through the new hole, up into the church filling it with angry flames.

Derek shielded you from any would-be dangerous flames.

 

"Cutting it a bit close, don't you think?" Derek coughed the smoke out of his lungs as you all walked through the darkness. His hand still holding onto yours so he could be your guide in the dark. Braeden held up a weak torch in the pitch-black tunnel.

"I made it didn't I?" She sounded a little aggressive, like someone with a bone to chew. Derek felt more rigid too. Even his breathing was controlled. They had unresolved issues, it was so obvious the air was swarming with tension.

Derek’s words came out sluggishly, "I… thanks, Braeden."

"Still, you had us worried," Scott sounded winded, his footsteps sloppy.

"When have I never followed through?" Liam retorted and before anyone could try and counteract his argument, he continued: "Actually, don't answer that."

"Who's the girl?" Braeden asked.

"A friend," Derek, Liam and Scott replied instantly.

You heart fluttered slightly.

You noticed that coppery smell was still in the air. In fact, it was more pronounced in the damp surroundings of the tunnel, "Do you guys smell that?"

"The blood?" Derek's voice was nearly lethal.

"Yeah," Scott replied, his voice equally dark.

You shivered.

"She's bleeding out," Braiden said nonchalantly. "Probably won't make it through the night."

"Screw you," Tamora's voice surrounded you.

You tried to look through the dark, but you couldn't see so you just kept going.

Eventually, after what felt like hours of walking, a corona of light bled through a circular manhole overhead. Liam was the first to go up, holding the torch for Braeden and you as the two of you slowly climbed up the rusty ladder. Next was Derek, who hunched over to pull the pale and bloody Tamora out from the tunnel. Last was Scott, whose clothes were drenched in her blood. The smell nearly made you gag, but you simply turned away and took four strong whiffs of the night air.

Car beams turned on abruptly, making you jump back, but then you heard Peter speak out from behind the car's lights.

"Took you guys long enough..." He smirked as he stood in front of the light. "I nearly sent my contact after you."

Stiles was next to appear before the headlights, "You guys won't believe who his contact is."

Derek was frowning and so was Scott, but not Liam. Something told you they already knew who it was.

A young man with a charming face but a disconcerting smirk climbed out of a second car you hadn't seen in the dark, he wore a leather jacket and dark jeans. He practically blended into the night.

"Long time," he said with a hint of dangerous attitude.

"Theo..." Scott greeted him coldly. " _You're_ Peter's contact?"

He leaned his frame against the car's hood, a sarcastic salute sent Scott's way, "Sir, yes sir."

Derek rubbed at the space between his eyes like he was fighting off a headache, "I don't have time for this. I'm exhausted and I'd very much like to leave this place before we get any unwanted attention."

Peter sniffed the air, his face showing nothing but pure disdain, "Why did you bring _her_ here?"

He strode closer towards Monroe, who was slowly succumbing to her wounds on the hard ground.

"I couldn't just leave her there, it was a graveyard by the time Liam got to us," Scott defended his actions. “Besides, whether we want to admit it or not, she was kind of instrumental in us getting away.”

"You should have left her there, it's what she deserves after everything she's done," Peter all but spit at her feet.

"I'm dying, not deaf you asshole," Monroe seethed from the ground, her bark equally as strong as her bite.

Peter kneeled next to her, a scary chuckle leaving his throat, "Indeed you are… dying. _My condolences._ " he laughed.

Derek's nose lifted to the air, "You found Deaton." He stated. "Who's the other guy?"

"Other guy?" Liam asked, his wolf senses not as sharp as Derek's it would seem.

"Oh, yeah, we picked up a stray too," Stiles said, though you wondered if he was joking or being serious.

Scott looked worried, "How's Deaton?"

"Deaton's passed out in the back seat. He's a little banged up, but okay," Stiles reassured him.

A warm sensation filled your belly. It was one of homeliness and safety. You couldn't feel the cool air anymore. Gasping in surprise, you looked up at the tall, dark-haired man that staggered out of the car with an arm bracing his side.

"Markus?" you dashed to his side, opening your arms to wrap your older brother into a hug.

"Easy Champ," he said through gritted teeth, a shaky laugh escaping his lips. "I'm a little banged up too."

"How- Why? Last I heard, Mom said you were with Jonah up at the cabin teaching him how to control his shift?" you asked, your hands frantically brushing against all the bruises and half-healed scars on your brother's face and neck and arms.

"Maggie and Esme are doing that," he turned away from you with guilt in his eyes.

Your bottom lip trembled when you figured out why he looked like you'd just kicked him while he was down. "You went after them… didn't you?"

"I… Yes."

You punched him, hard and he coughed from the impact. "Arrghh!"

"You promised you wouldn't!" You were furious. "How dare you after what happened to Alex? I didn't even know you were missing. Did mom? Did dad? Did anyone?"

"What was I supposed to do? Not try and protect my little sister? Not look after my pack?" he growled.

Your fist pounded on his chest, "Yes!"

Derek pulled you away from your brother when he saw him wince from one of your punches, "Easy," he shushed you while keeping a firm grip on your shoulders. He turned to the rest of the group and said: "Look, we can't stay out here. It's too exposed for my liking.” His green eyes turned down to peer into yours. “Let's get somewhere safe and then you guys can hash things out to your heart's content, okay?"

You bit your tongue, chest heaving from anger. "Okay."

"Okay," Markus agreed before staggering towards Monroe. "I just have one score to settle." He struggled to kneel and Liam gave him a hand. Then Markus’s nails extended into claws and his eyes turned blood red. "This is for all those other werewolves you tortured and killed in that godforsaken basement."

As your brother –your soft, kind-hearted and protective brother– raised his claws for a final slash, you reached forward, trying to stop him. "Wait, Markus! No, don't!"

It was too little too late. Markus’s eyes returned to their natural colour as he wiped the blood from his fingernails.

Monroe's neck was ripped open, arteries spraying outward.

Peter's smirk grew into a satisfied grin. Liam and Scott battled with their emotions while Stiles looked away.

Braeden groaned, but it was hard to tell her position on all this. "You know… I didn't miss you guys. Not one damned bit." she said as she walked towards the car Theo was leaning against. "I'm driving." He didn't protest. He seemed impartial. Like none of this phased him.

You stared in shock as you watched your brother's face get sprayed by a severed vein. Derek shifted your body away from the gruesome scene and you instinctively buried your face in his chest. Warm tears streaming down your face. It was hard to tell what you crying for. Was it for your brother? Yourself? Monroe? You couldn’t tell, but it felt good to lose the tension in your body.

"What now?" Scott asked dryly.

Derek spoke quietly as he smoothed your hair back with calloused fingers, "We lay low."

"That's a temporary solution," Liam argued. "What happens after that? We can't keep scraping by hoping to get lucky. This Order of Sagittarius is relentless. And also unkillable from what we've seen. Frankly, I'm exhausted."

You could hear Markus's long legs stride back to the car over Derek's strong heartbeat. Your face still pressed to his warmth.

"The Homestead," Markus offered, his voice croaky. "You'll be safe there. For a while at least. My sister Esme and our family druid Maggie have been doing research on the hunters you're talking about since the _incident_. Maybe we can combine our heads and finally figure out how to stop them."

"Road trip it is," Theo's voice sounded out before you heard the car doors open and close. An engine roared to life with a vibrating rumble.

"Come on," Derek ushered you towards a car. "Let's get you home."

During the drive you had fallen asleep cocooned inside the heat of Derek’s embrace, a calm befalling your mind and body as you slept without dreaming.

You were glad you’d been wrong.

You were glad that none of you had died in that church.

Mostly, you were glad Derek was beside you.

 


	12. Meet the Markolf's

The drive to the Homestead was filled with awkward silence, half snores and faint mumbles traded in for regular conversation. You had been resting against Derek's chest the whole drive, teetering between full-on sleep and temporal distortion from constantly zoning in and out -or at least, it felt like you were time travelling whenever you'd close your eyes for a second and then the next thing you knew, a whole hour had flown past.

Your dreams were foggy, hitting you vividly one moment then incomprehensible the next. Several symbols flooded your thoughts when your eyelids closed, so did Alyster’s hoarse voice, but you blocked most of that out. Through all the disorder within your brain, only one image presented itself clearly and repeatedly: the bow and shank of a golden key without a bit. You kept sketching it in your mind. Over and over and over again until you started tracing the outline of the shape on your thigh using your index finger. Derek noticed but didn’t say anything. You were grateful because you wouldn’t know what to say had he asked.

 

You knew instantly the moment you were close to home. The air smelled of pine and rain. The sound of chirping and crickets filled the night. You felt Derek's muscles uncoil as soon as that fresh forest air hit his nostrils. He took a long, deep whiff and that caused his chest to rise and the beating of his heart to accelerate. The sound was… calming.

A howl woke you from your half-slumber. You were greeted by a tense energy swarming inside the car. Markus chuckled before reassuring everyone it was simply your youngest brother, Jonah, alerting the rest of your family to your arrival.

The driveway was narrow and paved by pebble-sized stones in place of tar or cobble, the sound of tires rolling over stone was familiar yet odd. Out from behind a tall hedge was the old, two-story wood and brick style house and behind that was the cabin and shed. Your mother and father were standing on the porch, tight smiles on their faces diluted by the breezy way they waved their arms. Beside them stood your sister, Esme. She was wearing workout clothes, undoubtedly from spending her day training Jonah -who was nowhere to be seen.

"Home, sweet home," Markus said as he got out of the car and was promptly greeted by Esme's fist punching his side. "Oof! Why do both my sister's insist on punching me? Are hugs and handshakes no longer an acceptable form of etiquette amongst werewolves?"

Esme's brow was furrowed, she looked furious, "Werewolves, yes. Siblings, not so much.” She punched him again, “You had us worried."

You were certain she was ready to rip him a new one right there and then by scolding him with a wordy speech she had undoubtedly practised several times in the mirror, but it never came. In place of a tongue lashing, she completely blindsiding him with a strong hug. A relieved sigh leaving her full lips.

As soon as you stepped out of the car, you were nearly toppled to the ground by Jonah -who had no doubt picked up the same blindsiding habit from Esme- with one of his trademark sprint hugs.

"Y/N! I missed you! How's your new job? Saved any pups lately? Get bitten by any mean cats? What about your new house? Is it spacey? Do you have your own porch swing? I know how much you love porch swings. You probably noticed ours is gone, I kinda, sorta, maybe broke it. Anyway, what about your neighbours? Is it weird moving someplace where your nearest neighbours can hear it when you sneeze? You sneeze really loudly! Are they nosey or rude or--" Jonah rambled at a faster than lightning pace.

You were still winded from his surprise hug, you almost didn't know what was happening. You couldn’t even get a word in between each speed round of questioning he threw your way.

"I missed you too Speedy," You giggled as you patted his lithe back, he was taller and skinnier than when you last saw him. That worried you. "The real question is: _'What have they been feeding you?_ ' You're practically all bone!" You gawked at your parents.

Your dad chuckled, pushing his glasses farther up his nose, "Don't look at us. He eats more than Esme and Markus combined."

"Hey squirt," Esme wrapped you in a hug after she released Markus from her stony embrace. After she peered over your shoulder with an arched brow at all the strangers currently disembarking from the cars. "I see you've brought guests. Good thing you called ahead of time to give us a heads up." She retorted.

"Oh tish, Esme. Don't be rude," your mom walked down the steps and welcomed the strangers at her doorstep. “Please, ignore her boorish manners. Any friends of Y/N are friends of ours. Welcome, welcome.”

Stiles fumbled a bit, wiping his clammy hands on his jeans before offering a handshake. Scott and Liam inched closer to offer their own introductions while Derek and Peter took in the sheer scope of the Homestead, the latter of whom let out a whistle before remarking, “We invested in the wrong kind of real estate...”

“We?” Derek huffed.

“We’re family. Family is always entitled to a ‘ _we’_ ,” Peter pointed out.

“I think _we_ are the exception to the rule,” Derek strode away from the insulted looking Peter and introduced himself to your parents. Theo had remained silent and guarded during the entire welcome wagon. The overly warm ambience threw him off. He stood out like a sore thumb. An uncomfortably sore thumb.

"How's the fiancé?" you asked Esme with a bright smile as you made your way inside the house. It was probably the first time you'd been able to smile freely ever since you moved to Beacon Hills.

It comforted you that the house still smelt the same: sandalwood and lavender. Sandalwood was your dad’s go-to scent, he used it to try and mask the smell of tobacco from your mother whenever he’d sneak a cigar. He was never successful in that endeavour. Lavender was the go-to scent of all the candles Maggie made from scratch. She was a dabbler in aromatherapy. Everyone else in the house would always complain about strong smells during Summer, that’s when she did most of her brewing and mixing and distilling like some new-age witch without the pointy hat or warty nose. Your wolf nose wasn’t as keen as everyone else’s, so it never bothered you much. Not unless she was working with jasmine, you couldn’t stand the smell of jasmine.

Esme rolled her eyes, "She's driving me up the wall. Who knew planning a wedding could be so… stressful."

You cocked your head to the side, "Wait, I thought Maggie wanted to elope?"

"She did, originally," Esme sighed in your mom’s direction before shooting you a small smile. "Mom talked her into having a traditional wedding instead."

"All I did was show her your grandmother's wedding dress and a few photo albums, Maggie is a grown woman, she is allowed to change her mind," Your mother winked in your direction.

Jonah darted around Derek and Scott, nose high in the air as he far-from-discretely investigated the new werewolves.

"Hey, Speedy, what is the general rule when you meet other werewolves?" Esme asked with a hint of exasperation in her tone.

Jonah huffed a sigh and pulled his lips into a pout, eyes cast down, "Never be too obvious…”

“And?” Esme pressed.

Jonah bit his lip, “And don't sniff the air… it's rude."

"And what were you doing?" Esme's hands were on her hips now.

Jonah kicked at the air, "Being rude."

You elbowed your sister when you saw your brother's pouting face pull lower, "Cut him some slack, E. He's allowed to fib a little. He’s still a kid. You all had a learning curve too." You held out your hands for Jonah and he dashed to your side and cradled under your frame as though you were his security blanket. He shot Esme a shit-eating grin. "Don't worry Speedy, I'll protect you from the big, bad wolf."

Esme snarled, her eyes turning blue for an instant and then she chuckled and ruffled Jonah's sandy curls, "You're lucky Y/N's here. But don't think for a second that you can use her to get out of morning training."

Jonah shone his golden eyes in a puppy dog manner and Esme simply smacked his face playfully, not having any of his younger sibling bullshit tactics. You laughed at the weird sound he made after Esme’s palm left his face.

You had been so caught up in just being back home and slipping back into comfortable habits that you had forgotten to introduce everyone. "Oh, how rude of me. I haven’t done proper introductions yet. Mom, Dad, Esme, Speedy, these are my… friends from Beacon Hills. That's Derek, his uncle Peter, Scott, Liam, I'm not sure who he is because we met two nights ago and we took separate cars and, of course, we all know Deaton. We had a seventh, but we left her in Mexico."

Theo smirked at your quirky way of saying you hadn't been introduced and gave a half-wave as he decided to handle his own introductions, "Theo."  

Everyone gave a wave or a nod or an inaudible, 'Hello'.

"Everyone, these are my parents, Christian and Estella Markolf. The sour face over here is my sister Esme, you all met Markus and this little runt over here is Jonah.” You shook Jonah around like he was a ragdoll, prompting a giggle from him. “Our emissary, Maggie is… somewhere, though I'm not sure where."

"She headed into town early this morning, apparently a package arrived for her," Esme filled you in.

Jonah sniffed the air again, though not as subtly as he thought he was being. Then he turned and whispered to Esme, "Does he smell strange to you?" he set his eyes on Theo.

"Yeah, I'm not all werewolf, that's why. I'm surprised you picked up on it," Theo explained to him loudly.

Esme hid her embarrassment behind a scowl, “Speedy, we just went over this…”

Jonah ignored Esme’s protests and started up a conversation with Theo, "I have a condition that makes my wolf senses more excited than normal. It means I’m constantly running about or my nose picks up on strange smells from miles away. One time I smelt a campfire that was lit on the other side of the property line. Oh, and this one time I heard scratching in the house and it nearly drove me up the wall because it was so loud but no one else could hear it… turns out it was a rat in the basement."

"Ah, Chimera," Theo offered in explanation. "What's your…uh, condition?"

"ADHD," Jonah said simply.

Peter looked at your brother like he suddenly transformed into a peacock and you protectively glowered at him. Derek subtly stomped on Peter’s foot and he let out a hiss in pain. You bit back a laugh.

"Well," you father cleared his throat. "Now that we're all… acquainted, let’s see if we can make some room for all of you. And then after, we’ll let Markus explain what exactly he was doing in Mexico and why he and Esme never bothered to tell their parents they were planning on doing something stupid." he glanced between Esme and Markus with an inquisitive brow arched high. Both your siblings looked away like they’ been burned and shuffled awkwardly.

“Before you go on and tear Markus a new one, remember to mind your temper, your blood pressure is a whole thing now and I don’t need to tell you to keep a handle on it,” your mother patted your father’s chest lovingly before turning to her eldest son. “Any you. March on upstairs and take a shower and a couple of aspirin. You reek!”

 

The house was full and bustling with energy. In every room there was a conversation to be had or a chore to be done. The only time the house had been this full was the time when Maggie had invited her extended family over from Ireland to visit over the holidays.

The house was already beginning to bud off into smaller groups. The youngest members gravitated towards each other. Jonah and Theo hit it off quite easily and it didn’t take long until Liam was pulled into their orbit. Before you knew it, they were outside roughhousing like teenagers -though, to be fair, Jonah was barely over eighteen.

Peter and Esme got to talking about her former pack down in Sao Paulo and Deaton, Scott and Stiles were in the study looking over several open books and notes Maggie had compiled about the hunters. Derek and Markus were outside somewhere talking in hushed whispers. Meanwhile, your dad was helping you and your mother set up your old room.

"It's good to have you home," your mother said as she unfolded the duvet cover. "Despite the circumstances."

You shrugged, focusing your energy on putting the duvet cover on the right way round.

"Though it is rather ironic," your dad chipped in as he brought several sleeping bags down from the attic. "You left to get away from all this werewolf business and somehow you come home with more werewolves. Next thing you know you’ll be marrying a werewolf."

"I get it, I'm a walking disaster with a magnet for the supernal," you half-joked.

"That Derek boy and his uncle seem quite familiar to me," your mom's face scrunched up in thought. "He wouldn't be a Hale by any chance?"

"Y-yeah… how did you--"

"I knew his mother, way back when, before I left my old pack." She interrupted you as she fluffed several pillows and took down several blankets from the wardrobe. "He looks so much like his mother..." her eyes glanced out the window and then back at you. “And quite handsome."

You tossed a pillow her way, "Very subtle."

She winked, "It's just an observation."

Your dad grumbled as he took the blankets out of her hands and headed out of the room, "I sure do hope that’s all that was."

“Ignore him, he’s only just gotten used to the fact that he isn’t alpha anymore, he’s a little more territorial than usual,” she snickered behind a quilt.

 

You heard the clinking of Maggie's chunky metal bangles and numerous pendants before you heard footsteps when she barged in through the front door holding a cardboard box marked with a _'Royal Mail'_ stamp on it, "Hey, who are those two strange boyos with Jonah outside?"

She stopped with wide eyes when she saw you, arms spreading wide so she could squeeze your frame between her two plump arms. The frilly sleeves of her summer dress rolling up so you could see her tattoo sleeve in all its glory. You noticed she had gotten a new tattoo added to the collection.

"Aww, Y/N, I've missed you! I didn't think we'd be seeing you so soon after you left..." she studied your face and frowned when she noticed the dark circles under your eyes. "You haven't been sleeping at all. You got a bad dose of stress, don’t you? This won't do." Her strong Irish lilt was still very much present on her tongue.

"Hey, Maggie. I hear you aren't eloping anymore?" you asked and she blushed dotingly.

"What can I say, I decided I wanted the fairy tale wedding after all," She tucked her short hair behind her ear as a deep blush set on her freckled face. “I’m guessing those new additions amongst the garden gnomes belong to you?"

"Oh, I brought more," he nodded behind you where Derek, Peter, Scott and Stiles were all gathered.

"Who is that tall drink of water?" she whispered, but you knew they all heard.

You ignored her comment and glanced down at her parcel balanced between her arm and hip, "What's that?”

"Oh, it's a book my brother sent over," she used her shapely nails to rip open the box with little to no finesse. "Aha!" she cheered when she finally got it open. "It's the right volume too! I’ve gotta crack on with this sweets. We’ll hang properly later, yeah?"

You nodded and stood aside to let her through.

She trotted over to the study and immediately started flipping through pages after a short and sweet introduction to the rest of the pack. Maggie and Deaton got to catching up while Stiles, who was face timing with a pretty girl, pulled up a chair to join them with their studies. Derek glanced your way while Peter rambled to Esme and Markus about something. He flashed a quick smile at you that caused the temperature in the room to grow much hotter. You hovered aimlessly for a second before seeking out something to do. You settled for sticking your head in the fridge to try and cool down.

Those words Alyster had spoken before kept fading in and out of your subconscious all day like a malfunctioning dimmer switch you could never turn off all the way.

 

That night, you, Esme and Maggie had curled up under your covers with a pint of lemon sorbet and an old boxset of Friends on DVD. Even though you enjoyed your time away from the madness and bloodshed and being hunted to the ends of the earth, you never quite relaxed into the secure sanctuary of your bedroom walls.

The crappy TV in your room had the worst sound and you had spent most of the night pretending to watch the poor quality video while Esme and Maggie rotated between bridesmaid talk, the new pack of wolves you had brought home and how many muscles Derek was hiding under his shirt -that particular topic seemed to interest Maggie more that Esme, who simply made disinterested noises every time her better half brought up the topic.

"I mean… I bet his muscles have muscles..." Maggie ate her spoon full of ice-cream slowly, mind elsewhere. "He seems like the kind of guy who would work out shirtless."

_"Come with us, and all this chaos can end. Come with us and I'll tell you the truth."_

Esme sighed, "If you like him so much, marry him." her words weren't mean or unpleasant, simply the ramblings of a bored woman tired of hearing Maggie fawn over Derek's muscles.

_"Come with us and you will learn of your importance to the Order... And the fate of the world."_

"I mean… with your permission," Maggie said sarcastically before peppering what could only be cold kisses onto Esme’s cheek, smudging her rouge lipstick all over your older sisters face. Esme didn't mind it one bit.

_"All we want is you."_

"Easy there, future Mrs Quinn-Markolf," Esme wiped the lipstick smudges onto her t-shirt sleeve. "You keep smothering me like this and I may just have to rethink the, 'Till death do us part' clause in our vows."

Maggie snorted, "Yeah, you'll have to rethink it if you think I'm going to be known as Maggie Quin-Markolf for the rest of my life."

_"Your blood is special.”_

Esme pulled away from Maggie, “What? Is Quinn-Markolf not euphonic enough for you? I thought our love was stronger than clashing sounds of our hyphenated last names!” she retorted.

_“Your lineage is special.”_

Maggie scrunched her nose and gave a blunt, “Nah, you’d be sorely mistaken there, love.” Esme gasped and Maggie peppered her cheek with more kisses before she could escape from beneath the covers, “I am only codding ya!”

_“You are special."_

Despite the playful atmosphere, you were too distracted to enjoy the moment.

Esme noticed you had been absent from their conversations and she chalked it up to more than just exhaustion or anti-social behaviour, "You okay, squirt?" she nudged you with her shoulder.

You hummed, taken by surprise by the question. "Yeah, why?"

"Because you've been a little… distant tonight," Maggie finished her thought for her.

"I..." you wanted to say everything was fine. You wanted to put up a brave front and soldier on, but something in you cracked and you had to hold back a sob as you finally caved and revealed to Esme and Maggie about everything that had happened since you saved Derek in the vet clinic. You even revealed the part about you almost agreeing to be the sacrificial lamb when Alyster was in your head.

Neither your sister nor her fiancé said anything, they just let you talk and talk until you passed out. It felt good to be open and truthful without the fear of sudden judgement.

The next day, when you woke up, you were squished between Esme and Maggie. Their soft snores waking you from the longest sleep you'd had in a long while. It felt good to get that off your chest. But for some reason, the atmosphere in the house changed. It grew a little more tense.

 

***

The days following your homecoming blended together. The pack had spent their free time doing research and trying to come up with a viable plan of action. Liam, Jonah and Theo began to form an odd bond over their werewolf otherness -Liam with his IED, Jonah with his ADHD and Theo with his being a Chimera. Together, they were one ingredient short of turning into some form of an incendiary device. Their energy was exhausting, as was their constant rough-housing. You couldn't fathom how Maggie managed to reign them in whenever they got too rowdy. 

Things with Derek were different. He was more distant and whenever you did interact, he'd act pricklier than usual. He was giving you the cold shoulder. Most of the time, if he could avoid it, he wouldn't look you in the eye when he talked to you and his jaw would twitch every now and again as he spoke between clenched teeth. Peter delighted himself in watching your painful interaction. He’d always have a snide comment that would cause Derek to sigh or just walk away.

It was like Derek was being accosted by your very presence and that drove you up the wall. And that was why you were storming into the woods at dawn in old combat boots and baggy pyjamas.

You found him in the middle of the meadow, he was shirtless and sweating. His biceps were straining as he dipped his body low in a single armed push-up. You were dazed for a moment, the first glimmers of daybreak causing his sweat slickened body to glisten. It seems Maggie was correct in assuming he worked out without a shirt. A flush burned at your cheeks and you bit your tongue in frustration. Damn him and his perfectly chiselled muscles.

"What are you doing out here so early?" he grumbled out without looking at you.

"I have a bone to chew with you. Didn't want to do it in front of the others," You placed your hands on your hips as though that would make you look more imposing. It didn't. 

He stood and let out a strained exhale, bare chest heaving up and down as his midriff tensed and relaxed with every breath. He brushed a hand through his dark, sweaty hair and strode over, picking up his water bottle and spritzing himself with water in an effort to cool himself down.

You could have sworn you saw some of the moisture evaporate off his body. It made you gulp.

"Alright," he was panting, eyes dark. "What is it?" his jaw did that thing again and your face grew even redder. You hoped he'd chalk it up to anger.

"You've been acting… strange around me ever since we got here. Most days you don't even look at me. Usually, this wouldn’t bother me, but we’re supposed to be working together here and I can’t help but feel like maybe I did something wrong... Well did I?"

His eyes narrowed, " _Did you do something wrong?_ " he repeated the question with a condescending tone and then laughed darkly. "Oh, I don't know. I'm usually elated whenever the person I'm trying to protect from sudden death flirts with the idea of giving themselves over to the homicidal maniac that's been stalking them across the country!"

You gasped, "You heard me?"

He rolled his eyes at you, "Of course I heard you! The whole house heard you! You live with a family of werewolves that have super hearing!"

You were growing antsy, what gave him the right to be so angry over something that didn't concern him? What gave him the right to eavesdrop on your private conversations with Esme and Maggie?

You were positively fuming now, "Well, since you took it upon yourself to listen in on _my_ private conversation--"

"I wasn't listening in. I have _supernatural hearing!_ "

You held up your hand to hush him, "Let me finish. Since your _supernatural hearing_ picked up on my private conversation, then you obviously heard _why_ I flirted with the idea of giving myself over to that homicidal maniac. He promised to let you live. I thought you were going to die… all of you."

"That doesn't make things better. He could have been lying to you for all you knew!"

"What if he wasn’t?

"He was!"

"What if he wasn't and all this madness would have ended once I gave myself up?"

"I don’t believe that! And neither should you. I can’t believe you were so reckless. Do you have any idea…" He ran a hand over his scruff roughly. “We promised to protect you. How do you think I would have felt if you wound up dead? Or how Scott would have felt? We chose to put our lives on the line. That was _our_ choice.”

"If it comes down to me choosing between myself and everybody else, it’s simple math. It's my life! I never asked you to try and take it upon yourself to save me! I don't need your permission."

"Maybe you don't get a say in the matter!" Derek's eyes turned blue as he took a step closer to you. “Math isn’t all it’s about. It’s not all check and balance. Death isn’t permanent for everyone else who’s left behind. It just becomes an addition to their own equation.”

You were shaking now, voice going hoarse from all the shouting, "What gives you the right to presume to know what is and isn't best for me or what I can and cannot get a say in?" You finger poked at his chest repeatedly.

He wrapped his strong hands around your wrist, but there was no pressure, he simply used his hold over you to pull you closer so you could hear his whispers, "Absolutely nothing."

Voice feather-light, you whispered back with a searching gaze, "Then why are you so mad with me for trying to do the right thing?"

"Because..." he tried to explain but gave up with a sigh and then dropped his water bottle.

Before you knew it, Derek's arms snaked around your body and his lips crashed onto yours in a heady kiss. His sharp canines grazed over your sensitive tongue and lips in a seductively dangerous manner. The kiss felt dangerous…forbidden. The perfect balance between pain and pleasure.

You gasped in shock when he deepened the kiss, his tongue coaxing yours to become as fervent as his was. Lapping, suckling and massaging tender flesh in sweet torment. A deep rumble emerged from his chest that caused your locked tongues to vibrate. Instinctively, he pulled you closer until you were pressed flush to his hot body. You moaned on reflex and felt blood rush to your head until your vision started to spin.

When he finally broke away, you stumbled and took a few breaths to try and gather your wits. Derek's wolfishly warm palms were cupping your face, forcing you to stare up into his deep green eyes. "Because you drive me insane." He finally finished.

"Oh..." a frog set itself in your throat and you had to clear it with a few awkward sounds, "I- Uhem! I, uh… didn't know that. I… I-"

You were flustered and in shock, your body burning with a sensual desire you hadn't had a second ago. All you could think about was how good his lips felt on yours. How soft and tender and deep the kiss he was. How talented his tongue was.

You had to fan yourself to try and cool your skin. When that wasn't enough, you grabbed Derek's water bottle off the ground and sprayed yourself with the remnants inside.

With a shrill gasp, you turned to Derek, mustering what little dignity and authority you had left and spoke sternly at him, "That still doesn't excuse your behaviour. I'm glad we could resolve this like adults. I'll see you at the house. I have… things to do. Have a good… exercise."

You nodded to yourself and marched away, leaving the sounds of Derek's baffled chuckles behind. Before you reached the house, Jonah had appeared out of some unseen position and stopped you mid-stride. You shrieked from freight and frowned at him when he gave you an apologetic look.

"Jesus, Speedy! Don’t do that… Announce yourself next time or wear a bell," you steadied your breathing. "What is it?"

"Sorry, it's just, Maggie you know, she… uh, sent me with a message and told me to get to you as quickly as possible," Jonah rambled.

You placed a hand on his shoulder to slow him down, "Talk. Slower."

He nodded, a yawn deforming his smile, "She -Ah, good you're here, I don't have to run after you too. And, oh wow, you’re shirtless. I like running around shirtless too. Esme doesn’t like it though. She says I blind her with my pale skin. It’s not my fault that I can’t tan as nicely as the rest of the family," he spoke to someone behind you.

You turned and noticed Derek had run down from the meadow after hearing you scream. The flush from before threatened to return but you chose to focus on Jonah’s message and not Derek's intense stare.

"Right, okay, back to why Maggie sent me out here to look for you guys," Jonah continued. "She thinks she's cracked it."

"Cracked what?" Derek asked as he pulled his shirt over his shoulders.

"You know, the mystery behind the hunters who’ve been killing werewolves all over the place and what it is exactly that they want," Jonah smacked his palm on his forehead. "She thinks she knows what they are too, thanks to that book Caleb sent her –Caleb is her brother in Ireland– Deaton and that clumsy dude… Stiles, they helped her with everything. They spent all night translating this book with a girl called... Lyria? Lyra? I can’t--" he clicked his fingers repeatedly as though that would magically bring the name back to him.

"Lydia," Derek stated.

Jonah clicked his fingers once more before continuing, "Yeah, her! Anyway. Family meeting in five. Chop-chop. Before Maggie sends Esme after me… And I don't want that."

Jonah sprinted for the house and you were left a little winded by everything.

Derek placed his hand on the small of your back to urge you forward and you shuddered beneath his simple touch and he snatched his hand away as if your skin had electrocuted him.

Things just got complicated.

 


	13. It's All About Telluric Currents

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter and I are frenemies. On the one hand, I love delving into lore, on the other… I don’t like info dumbing, but… Yeah. Also, I didn’t get a chance to work on some things that I had originally intended but the good news is that the action picks up in chapter 14! I haven’t proofread so bear with me.

"Vampires?" Peter huffed with a humorous chortle in his throat.

Maggie pinched the bridge of her nose, annoyed that he had interrupted her mid-sentence, "Not in the conventional _Vlad the Impaler_ sense… but yes, for lack of a better term, 'vampire' is as accurate an explanation as I can give."

Theo chuckled under his breath, his body shaking with amusement, "Vampires. Now I've heard it all."

"Almost everyone in this room is a werewolf and you're a chimera, but for some reason believing in a well-established mythological creature just as popular as the werewolf is where you draw the line?" Stiles gawked at both Peter and Theo.

"I'll believe it when I see it," Peter folded his arms.

"Perhaps if you'd let Maggie finish what she was telling us, we'd have an easier time swallowing this 'vampires exist' pill," Stiles posited with some annoyance in his voice.

"Thank you, Stiles," Maggie said gratefully before continuing: "Okay so from what I've gathered, we know that these hunters never appear in daylight and that any effort to kill them hasn’t been successful as far as we know. And according to Derek, when you two were in the dream state, they mentioned something called the Mother Tree and one of them had a tattoo of a five-fold-knot. We also know they are warded off by burning sage."

"Oh, I get where you're going with this," Jonah plopped down onto several cushions and crossed his legs. "Sage is their garlic… right?"

"What?" Esme frowned, lost in translation.

"Because vampires can't stand garlic. So if these hunters are some type of vampires, then sage is their garlic," Jonah said excitedly. "Oh, oh, oh, does that mean that we have to whittle stakes to kill them?"

“They do suck people’s essences out of their body, don’t forget that,” Peter added dryly.

Jonah’s eyes went large and his jaw dropped, “Woah! Maybe they _are_ vampires.”

"That's all well and good, Speedy, but that's not what I was getting at," Maggie patted his back appreciatively. "I was going to say that the Mother Tree is probably a very old Nematon and sage is an ancient ingredient used by druids for centuries, usually to cleanse negative energy and such. Naturally, this led Deaton and I to the legend of the _liaths._ And they in turn led us to--"

"Now I’m confused," Derek jumped in. "What's a liath?"

Maggie pursed her lips as she thought of the simplest way to explain it to them.

It was Deaton who chimed in this time, "The same way druid emissaries are a force for good and darachs are a force of evil, liaths are those caught in between. They don't really serve any one side."

Esme pulled out a scroll from a stack of papers shoved in the bookcase after Maggie whispered something in her ear. Once it was unrolled, a large portrait of several faces stared back at you from the crumbling paper. You gasped when you saw what looked to be a perfect illustration of Alyster and Astrid and that kitsune -Kaze- from before.

“Are these the guys who attacked you in the church in Mexico?” Maggie’s dark nails scrapped over the paper slightly and the noise made a few of the werewolves in the room cringe.

"That's impossible," Peter chocked on his words as he took a closer step to see the scroll better. "They look exactly as they did in your memories..."

"They haven't aged a day," Liam said in amazement.

"I thought so," Maggie popped her knuckles, bangles sliding down her arm nosily, "That is one of the few remaining iterations of an ancient order known as the Venatores -which Stiles told me you had already figured out thanks to Lydia’s translations. Over the years they’ve been called different names: Order of Osiris, Order of Sagittarius, The Solstice Hunters… it goes on and on. They've been around for thousands of years."

"Why?" you finally spoke, but your voice was shakier than you would have liked. "What do they want?"

Derek's eyes fell on you when he heard the subtle quake in your words, he instinctively took a step closer to you but then stopped himself from moving any closer. That awkward tension was still strong between you two. You dreaded the fact that you'd have to talk about the kiss... eventually.

Markus rubbed your arms to comfort you, it helped but not by much.

Maggie opened her mouth to answer you but couldn't pull through. Having sensed Maggie's distress from trying to answer your question, Esme laced her fingers with hers in a silent act of assurance.

"What is it?" you asked frantically, eyes searching the pile of notes and sketches and open books for any clues. Markus held you fast so you didn't shake like a leaf in front of everyone.

Theo exhaled loudly, his fingers scratching at his eyebrow, "Isn't it obvious. They want what they've always wanted. You. Dead. The real question is why?" He turned his attention back to Maggie, ignoring your distraught expression.

A hush fell over the room and you could see Markus's eyes squint in Theo's direction when you turned to jelly in his arms from dread.

"He's not wrong," Peter mumbled and Derek jabbed his side with his elbow forcing a cough out of Peter’s mouth.

You took in a deep breath and sat down on a chair, head in your hands as you blinked back the image of Alex lying dead on the ground and Scott and Derek being cornered by the hunters. Your life was turning out to be one great big nightmare, and right now you were beginning to resent the fact you hadn't gone with Alyster. With that thought, a tingle returned to your lips and you were reminded of the kiss. It brought with it a bitter-sweetness that kept you grounded while your thoughts bounced all over the place. You felt like you were going insane.

As though to shift the focus and clear the stale air, Deaton pushed a large, musty-smelling book towards the group and flipped it 180 degrees. His finger tapped on an illustration of an intricate compass that looked to be hundreds of years old. "Is this the device that the man -Alyster- had around his neck?"

You studied the detailed drawing and then nodded weakly, "Yeah, that's it. What is it?"

"It's called the Oculus. It grants the wearer an ability to wield the _Wadjet_ , it is more popularly known as the--"

"Eye of Horus," Markus interjected, brows knit in thought. A few people shot him surprised looks and he just shrugged them off with a nonchalant: "I have a masters in history."

"That's right," Deaton affirmed. "Horus is associated with protection from evil spirits and he is usually depicted as a falcon, hence the reason why this Alyster's eyes change when he activates the Oculus."

"So now we're fighting ancient Egyptians? I--" Liam plopped down next to Jonah and just stared blankly at the floor. "Can someone just run us by the SparkNotes version or...?"

Esme laughed and sat atop the table with one leg dangling over the air, "You gotta brush up on your storytelling skills, hon." she smiled at the very exhausted Maggie.

Deaton cleared his throat before throwing his hypothesis out for everyone to ponder, “I think this amulet gives him the ability to track and locate the Order’s targets. I also think it’s used as an anchor to a much more powerful source of magic.”

Maggie jumped in on Deaton’s bandwagon and started breaking down what everyone knew, "Okay, so from what Stiles found out, we know that these hunters have some sacred mission linked to all their killing. We now also know they're older than dirt so… that's a plus because there’ll be a trail left behind somewhere. What we didn't know before was, just as Theo put it, _why_ they do what they do. Until now."

Maggie placed a book identical to the one Stiles had been trying to translate in the bunker days prior, “According to this text, the Order was established by a group of druids, liaths and darachs alike. A few hundred years ago a plague nearly wiped out all shapeshifters on earth -that's why our numbers are so low despite how long we've been around. Those that were immune stopped presenting the ability to shift. Those who contracted the plague were killed by the Order. It was called the First Coming of the End of Days. The sacred duty of the Order -or Venatores- was to try and prevent a _second coming_. The druids on this council feared that the plague would one day return, and so they created these hunters using the sacred power stored inside the oldest focal point of concentrated magic in their village. A Nematon. And since Nematon’s have a tendency to influence the formation of telluric currents, we believe that’s where the Oculus comes into play. We think after they absorb someone’s essence, the Oculus channels that energy into the earth and sends it somewhere else using telluric currents.”

Peter ran a hand through his face, his jaw muscles tensing, "Oh for the love of- So far, all you've told us is that these hunters are very old, very unkillable and very specific in choosing their victims. None of that helps us in any way. I want to know how to kill them, and if we can't, I'd like the quickest route to the airport please." He flashed a forced smile and everyone collectively sighed.  

"Scott, how do you feel about all this, you've been quiet during this whole thing," Derek ignored Peter's outburst and placed his focus on Scott, who looked to be in his own little world.

Scott stretched and turned his head up to regard everyone's inquisitive gazes, "Honestly, my whole life has been one impossible thing succeeding another and another… So what if they're vampires or if they're supposedly the first warning sign of the end of days. A few days ago, Monroe was our biggest worry, now she's dead and her numbers are cut in half. That's one crisis averted. Things have a way of balancing themselves out. We just have to maintain cool heads until they do."

Stiles paced about the room before clapping his hands together at the prospect of a new idea dawning over him, “Uh, hey, Maggie, you got a map that displays telluric currents?”

Maggie moved about the room in a hurry, but it was Markus that came to the rescue, “Here,” he handed Stiles a map he had grabbed from a trunk. “Telluric currents were a passion project of mine. I’m a bit of a nerd for this stuff.”

Stiles slapped Markus’s large arms in thanks and winced before flicking his hand at the wrist several times, “Ow, what do they feed you?”

“Kibble,” Markus joked dryly. “Why the map?”

“I’m thinking if we spot any major changes between the data on this map and a more recent one, we can determine whether this Oculus theory is accurate and maybe plot out where the fluctuations lead to,” Stiles fumbled with the map until he gave up and handed it to Scott who unfolded it with ease.

"That just might work…” Markus looked over your shoulder, his attentions shifted onto the piece of paper in front of you. “What are you drawing?"

You furrowed your brows, confused by his question and then looked down to where his eyes were focused. On the page were several pened drawings of a bow and shank of a key without a bit. To your surprise, you had been scribbling the symbol from the car ride over and over.

"I… I didn't know I was doing it," you sat up from the chair and dropped the pen like it had burned you.

"I know this symbol. Professor Tennyson ran a class on semiotics. That's the Ankh. The Egyptian symbol of life," Markus finished the symbol by drawing a line that intersected between the bow and shank of the key.

"Okay, but that doesn't explain why I'm drawing random symbols without thinking it..." you looked to everyone in the room and saw Stiles raise his hand. ”Stiles?"

"Ah, yeah, so I was possessed once by an evil kitsune's spirit and that would sometimes cause me to do things I didn't remember doing," he shoved both his hands in his pockets and started rocking on the balls of his feet, lips pressed tightly together when he noticed Jonah's jaw practically fall to the ground.

Everyone in the room took a tentative step back or inched away from you. You rolled your eyes at their behaviour.

"I'm not possessed. I think I'd know if I was possessed," you bit back.

"I'm pretty sure that's not how that works," Liam chimed in, his words muffled by his curled hand placed on his chin and lips.

"Maybe its residual magic from when Alyster was inside your head," Esme said casually as she took a bite of an apple.

"Alyster was in your head?" Markus repeated in shock. "How? When? _How?_ And why didn't you say anything?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I was under the impression that _everyone_ heard my conversation with Esme and Maggie a few nights ago," you glared at Derek. "Seeing as how I live in a house full of werewolves with supernatural hearing."

Peter coughed again, but this time it was to hide his grin and laughter. Derek opened his mouth to say something but Deaton's busy hands rustling through papers and books garnered everyone's attentions away from the two of you.

"What are ya thinking?" Maggie asked him.

"I think Esme is right, and I think there's a pattern we aren't seeing," he answered.

"What pattern?" Scott moved closer to the table.

"Semiotics," Deaton smiled when he pulled up an encyclopaedia. "First, Alyster mentioned a Mother Tree. Then we find out that the hunters are the closest thing to immortal as we can get and now Y/N is unknowingly sketching the Ankh of all thing. Do you see it yet?”

“These are all three very different things,” Liam nodded.

“N-no… They are all linked by one semiotic message. Life,” Deaton said, his finger pointing into the air stiffly like he was giving a powerpoint presentation. “Every spell draws power from somewhere. All magic is just an exchange of energy.”

“So what if they’re killing people for fuel?” Derek posited, stepping closer to you and the table.

“Why don’t we just ask one of them?” Theo’s bored tone swept through the room.

Stiles squinted at him, “What? Just stroll up to them and ask one of them to come over for tea and crumpets?” he retorted sarcastically.

“No, I mean like set a trap, kidnap them and then try different methods of murder until one of them sticks,” he stated morbidly.

Jonah swallowed loudly and hid half his face behind a pillow, “That sounds mean.”

“It doesn’t count if they’re immortal,” Theo smirked.

Esme lobbed her apple at his face, some of its fleshy interior broke off and showered around Theo’s feet in juicy sprays. He wiped the residual bits off with his jackets sleeve and a sour face.

“Don’t fill his head with such things. You aren’t helping. Out!” Esme pointed to the door and Theo lifted his hands defensively as he strode out confidently.

“Can I leave too, or are we only handing out hall passes if we say insensitive things?” Peter pointed to Theo’s retreating form. “Because, let me tell you, I have so man—“

 Esme lobbed another apple but Peter’s quick reflexes caught in just before it touched his nose. He crushed the apple in his hands and made quite the show of it, “I take it that was a _no_?”

“Stop being an ass, Peter. Otherwise, the next thing someone throws at you will be a stake,” Derek spoke over his shoulder without looking up from the map Stiles had laid down.

“A stake…” Peter glanced at Jonah and then back up at Derek’s back. “The kid _was_ onto something!”

“W- Who me?” Jonah bounced on the couch, happy to be included in the discourse. “About what? Vampire stakes?”

Peter rose a brow and said, “Yes.”

No one moved an inch, the only sound in the room was the passing of wind and Stiles flipping map pages like he was ripping rice paper apart.

“Think about it,” Peter wiped his hands on Scott’s shirt and Scott simply sighed. “Maybe 'vampire' isn’t the most far off explanation after all. I mean… what if we need a very specific weapon to kill these hunters? Maggie said that they were created using magic from a Nematon. And Deaton thinks the Oculus is used to traverse through telluric currents -Hell, I bet that’s how they travel so quickly too!- Maybe we need a piece of the thing that made them, to kill them!”

Esme worked her back muscles before begrudgingly siding with Peter, “I hate to say this, but maybe the ass is right.”

“Well that’s just rude,” Peter complained. “But at least you can see the obvious genius in my explanation. And look at that, I didn’t even take a whole morning to explain things to everyone.”

Markus rubbed his eyebrows, “So we find this tree and…”

“I found it! I found the spot where the telluric lines converge!” Stiles cheered by himself, fist-pumping in the air. Jonah joined along too figuring it was the more appropriate thing to do in this situation. Then Stiles’s face fell and he swore under his breath as he looked over the map on his phone and the one of the table.

Derek sighed, his teeth clenching in disappointment, “It’s in Sweden.”

The room collectively groaned.

“Well we can scratch that off the list because there’s no way we’d be able to go all the way to Sweden and back before the hunters murder everyone,” Peter sat on the windowsill looking defeated. “Come to think of it, why haven’t they found us yet? It’s been days. Last time it took them mere hours to find us after we’d crossed the border into Mexico.”

Maggie was chewing a biscuit and had to dry swallow most of it to answer him, “We’ve been taking turns burning sage pales around the property's border. I’m surprised you haven’t smelt it.”

“I just thought that was the usual smell around here,” Peter mumbled snidely.

“Actually, I don’t think we have to go very far to get what we need,” Deaton stated. “Most Nematon’s come from the same root. In theory, all we have to do is head back to Beacon Hills to get what we need.”

“Then I guess we’re going back to Beacon Hills,” You stood from the chair, spine groaning from being stretched too suddenly. “If you want to test out your stake theory, you’re going to need bait.”

“It’ll be dangerous,” Derek protested in a dark voice.

“Then you’ll just have to protect me. Like you promised,” you spoke with confidence.

“Shotgun!” Peter said loudly with a mischievous wink sent Derek’s way.

 

* * *

It didn’t take long for a plan to be formed. Soon after everyone was familiar with their roles, they all broke off to start packing up.

You had started packing up some of the clothes you’d found in your old drawers. You didn’t know why you were doing this but it seemed to help, it kept your mind busy. Markus, Esme and Maggie had argued for you to stay home and let everyone else handle everything, but in the end, they were left with no option but to concede. Even though it was dangerous, you were right, the plan wouldn’t work if you stayed behind.

Maggie gave you a pendant with a hollow locket filled with sage essential oils so you could stay shielded from the Order during your drive back. There was a spot on your chest that always got a little oily if the necklace stayed still for too long. You made a habit of wringing the charm along the silver chain in between still moments.

There was a rap at your door and you started from your thoughts, “Come in.”

It was Derek.

“Got a minute?” he asked from behind the ajar door.

“All I’ve got are minutes.”

He hummed before walking in and closing the door behind him, affording himself some privacy, “I wanted to talk to you about--“

“The kiss,” you said simply.

“Yeah, listen, it was a spur of the moment thing. It was a heated argument and you were so stubborn that I felt like I couldn’t get a word in,” Derek tried to explain while his hands fidgeted.

“Right. It was the only thing you could think to do.”

“Yes!” His eyes lit up.

“Like in the dreamscape…”

“Yes!” then his eyes grew serious and his cheeks went hot. “Wait, that’s not what I was getting at…”

You laughed, stuffing more clothes into your bag, though at this point the only thing left were baby booties and torn towels, “Relax Derek. I’m not going to eat you. As long as you don't make things awkward, I won't make things awkward.” You joked.

He held you stead and stared you dead in the centre of your eyes, you shivered again, your lips going numb as they remembered what it felt like to have Derek's lips over them.

“Look, I came here to tell you… It was a mistake, for me to have kissed you… in that way. I promise I won’t do it again,” he released his grip from your arms and you felt an odd sense of disappointment at having heard those words.

Derek pulled the door handle and before he stepped out of your room, he whispered, “Not until you ask me to.”

Your knees caved in and you crashed onto your bed. You didn’t know what to say or think or feel. You were left feeling dazed again. It was turning into a force of habit now. But behind your fear and uncertainty, behind your broken heart that still mourned Alex, you felt a glimmer of warmth spread into your heart. It felt like molten sunshine. Bright and happy.

Through the spreading sensation, you fought the sudden urge to smile in spite of all the devastation you had faced –and were about to face.


	14. With Undying Devotion...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** It’s funny, looking back at my series plot outline, I never thought this was the direction I was going to go with this confrontation but… The pen writes what it wants.  
>  **Warnings:** Some gory body horror bits -imo. Violence, another cold open, angst?

**~**

Derek and Peter sat in the front of the car –Peter at the wheel driving at a more dangerous speed than Derek did. Markus sat beside you.

The others had taken other cars.

The car was cold. The air-con turned all the way up for some reason. It seemed you were the only one with goosebumps that refused to smooth over since you were the only one rubbing at your skin. In search of a warmer cardigan, you reached beside you to grab your duffle bag, but then you remembered you didn't have it. It was with Scott.

_Damn!_

You should have dressed warmer.

A dial tone sounded from Derek's phone. This was the third time he'd tried the same number. His brow was scrunched in annoyance as he tapped re-dial for the fourth time.

Your head was pressed to the cold glass of the window, the trees whooshing past to form one collective reel of green and brown as your nails dug into the bandage wrapped around your palm. An itch you couldn’t get at annoying your newly formed cut.

"She's not going to answer," Peter said, eyes focused on the road. "Besides, our plan isn't contingent on her being a key player."

"We need the back-up in case things go south," Derek said. "She's the only one powerful enough to take one of those hunters head-on if we need a quick exit."

"I cannot wait to say _'I told you so'_ when this inevitably blows up in your face," Peter snorted.

"If that happens we'll all be screwed to high hell," Derek said bleakly. “Which means, you’ll be going down with me, smart-ass.”

Peter rubbed his nose, a redness forming just above his lip. He exhaled loudly.

Once the ringing stopped, an unclear voice sounded out through Derek’s phone's speakers. He placed the phone to his ear.

"I need to cash in a favour," his tone was indifferent.

There was a beat of silence, thick and disturbing.

Peter shuffled awkwardly, stretching against the uncomfortable seat material and forward slanted head rest.

"She's not gonna show," Peter sing-songed.

You laced your fingers around your pendant, wringing it about from left to right like a pendulum. A spot on your chest marked by sage oil.

Derek hummed before cutting the phone, it sounded contemplative rather than disappointed. He turned to Peter, "I guess we're just going to have to hope everything goes as planned then."

 

 

The car was parked on the edge of the treeline to the woods.

Peter groaned, looking down at his expensive shoes and the damp soil outside, "These were new shoes."

"I'll buy you a new pair if we live through this and you stop complaining," Derek clapped back as his heavy boots stomped into the mud, splatters of wet soil spraying on his dark jeans.

You and Markus disembarked and for once you were glad you weren't wearing your tennis trainers.

"On the plus side, if we all die, at least it’ll be in style," Markus noted dryly.

Peter shrugged and you rolled your eyes.

"Alright, split up?" Markus asked.

Derek nodded, "Yeah, since we know the lay of the land better, Peter and I will take one of you and we'll work going inward."

"If this place is so important, why hasn't anyone ever mapped out its location?" You asked, hands stuffed in your jeans to keep your body heat close as a cold breeze swept through.

"We tried. The Nematon has a tendency to hide itself," Derek told you.

"Oh..." you said, pretending to understand.

Peter looked around for a minute before speaking over his shoulder, "I'll take tall, dark and broody with me."

Both Markus and Derek pointed at themselves in confusion.

Peter rolled his eyes before pointing at your brother, "The other tall, dark and broody."

You lifted a finger to protest but before a full sound left your throat, Peter had already disappeared into the dark forest with Markus in tow.

You cursed under your breath and from the cheeky smirk Derek wore, you knew you hadn't sworn low enough.

"Come on," Derek's head nudged towards the dense forest. Hands in his back pockets.

"Perfect," you said sarcastically.

 

You and Derek walked in silence, your hands running up and down your bumpy flesh to burn the cold away.

The woods held an eeriness to them that made the air feel like burning sulphur despite the cold. Fog rolling outward like a dense smoke cloud the farther from the road you got.

You stepped in a mud patch and slid forward. Derek's quick hands caught you and kept you steady.

"You okay?" he looked you in the eye.

You blinked away and cleared your throat, "Yeah, t-thanks."

"You feel cold," he shrugged off his jacket. "Here."

"N-no, I- I'm fine, really," you refused his offer, but Derek ignored your words, draping his jacket around you. It was sweet of him.

"Relax. It won't eat you. It's just a jacket," he smirked.

You nodded while pressing your lips together.

"So… come here often?" you asked as Derek marched forward with long strides -you practically had to jog to keep up.

"To the woods?" he chuckled. "Yeah, this place is a riot," he added dryly.

You scrunched your face and Derek’s arms flexed as he folded them together.

"Actually I grew up close to these woods," there was a sadness to his voice.

You were intrigued, chin rising higher to get a better look at his face, "What's your family like?"

"Dead. Mostly," he noted casually.

Your eyes went wide.

Derek shuffled, feeling that maybe he sounded a bit more serious than normal. He ground his teeth before laughing humourlessly and tried again, this time lighter: "We used to be like your family, actually. Large, overwhelming, very unapologetically different."

"Thanks, I guess…?" you swatted at some fireflies.

Derek shifted his eyes blue and the bugs scattered from predatory fear. He relaxed back to normal and added, "It's a compliment, trust me."

You smiled before asking, "What happened?"

He answered almost immediately, like it as a rehearsed line or one he’d thought about many times, "The girl I was dating turned out to be a hunter… a homicidal one at that."

"Boy, those just follow you everywhere," you jabbed.

He craned a brow your way, "Goes with the territory."

He held your gaze for a moment too long and heat flushed through you, your lips tingling from the memory of his tender yet rough kiss. Your cast your eyes down at your feet.

When you looked back up you noticed Derek rubbed his nose discreetly.

You were compelled to ask him out of curiosity, "You and Peter have been doing that all night. Everything alright?" you pointed to his nose with a red nib.

"You can't smell it?" he was surprised, his eyes fixed on your pendant.

"Is it the sage?"

He hummed in response.

"Sorry," you said with a glib tone, feeling bad for causing everyone so much discomfort.

He cocked a half-smile, "Don't apologise. _That_ is the only reason we're still alive-" he pointed at your pendant. "I can survive a little irritation. Immortal hunters? Not so much."

You stopped for a bit. Mind remembering something that made you laugh dryly. Derek turned to you.

"What?" he asked.

"N-nothing," you held his jacket as your body shook with laughter. "It's just ironic isn't it? The first time I met you, I dug a bullet out of your chest. You were the one in need of saving then. Now look at how everything turned out. I'm the proverbial damsel in distress and it pisses me off!"

It was Derek's turn to laugh, hot air permeating through the cold night in foggy breaths.

"You find that funny?" your jaw squared as you planted your feet and crossed your arms.

"I think it's funny you think you're a damsel," he smiled wider. "Not many damsels I know of have no qualms with cauterising a man's wound using the tip of an arrow and a zippo.  And you can damn well be certain they aren’t eagerly offering themselves up as bait. Not once mind you, but twice." He held up two fingers.

"Then I guess I'm an idiot," you remarked flatly.

"Aren't we all?"

Derek placed a hand on your shoulder. Your body reacted as you’d come to expect, with a shiver running up your spine and a flush rising up from your neck to greet your cheeks.

He uttered in a manner reserved for those more than friends -soft and intimate, "Take it from someone who lost their lycanthropy once, claws and teeth and speed doesn't make you powerful. Resolve does. And you've got that in spades."

You gulped, the warm feeling creeping into your chest again. It was strange seeing him so… open. This version of Derek was different from the one you first saw bleeding out on your metal slab.

Derek didn't move. His hand sending ripples of electricity through you from the contact. It didn't help matters that his jacket smelled of his scent and was wrapped around you like you were a couple in an 80's movie.

It all should have felt overbearing, too demanding, but for some reason, it felt the complete opposite. It felt like just enough.

You took a step forward and Derek stayed locked in place. He was determined to keep his promise. If anything were to happen between you two, under the stars and the pregnant silver moon, it would be only by your say so. You held all the cards and from the tantalisingly tempting way your lips tingled, you knew instinctively what your next play would be.

Your brain shouted for you to step away, to keep things from getting complicated, to not risk your heart again, but your lips parted of their own volition and soon you were speaking in a heady tone, "Derek… I…"

His jaw tensed, though it was much subtler. His eyes on the verge of turning blue. An odd aquamarine settled over his irises instead. He was trying his damndest to stay in control. It was then that you noticed how tightly he balled his other fist. The air filled with more trails of fog from his and your breaths. They kept climbing in frequency.

"I…" your feet trembled and then a howl pierced through the sound of crickets, startling you from your daze.

Derek inhaled and let his arm drop free from your shoulder, he brought it to his own and started working the muscle there as if it were sore.

"Peter's calling. Think he's found it. Come on," he shrugged as he walked in broad strokes towards the origin of the howl.

You cursed again and followed after, thankful for the cold air for the first time since the night began. It drained the colour away from your face.

 

"What took you guys?" Markus asked as he hopped off one foot onto the other in repeated motions.

"They were probably _in-dis-posed_ ," Peter wiggled his eyebrows as he strained the syllables of that last word, a devilish smirk pulling his face up.

Derek shook his head and you bit your inner cheek, ignoring the suggestive look Peter had shot your way.

A stone’s throw away was an old stump in the middle of the clearing. The Nematon.

"That's the Nematon?" you asked, a little disappointed.

"Not much to look at, but trust me, that thing is teeming with supernatural energy," Peter said.

Markus squatted close to the tree, placing his hand on its flat surface. His eyes flashed to red and back, nails shifting into claws then back to nails.

"They're right, this is it." He confirmed.

"This thing is barely higher than my knee. Without branches, what are we going to fashion stakes out of?" you raised your hand at the short stump.

Derek and Peter glanced at each other, each thinking the same thing.

In unison, they said: "The root cellar."

 

The root cellar was dark. The smell of earth was rich here. An old stain of a bloody handprint had turned a coppery orange colour on one of the root tendrils snaking into the ground. A five-fold-knot carved into another. The air was freezing, like the temperature decreased exponentially, forcing your teeth to chatter. A sickening feeling tugging at your gut as your organs protested in every way possible.

"Something bad happened here," you spoke in a hushed whisper.

Derek was stiff, eyes turning glassy as they stared daggers at the five-fold-knot. The atmosphere around him shifted. All of a sudden he was his usual brooding and detached self.

" _That_ is an understatement," Peter replied.

Markus took in the air, coughing slightly. He and Peter scratched at their noses in almost perfect synchronicity. Not Derek though. He stayed painfully still.

"What happened here?" Markus rose his eyebrows.

Peter's mouth opened then closed, a furrow on his face.

"Let's just get what we came for and wait for the call," Derek grumbled out, claws extending instantly as he slashed at a sturdy section of root and pulled it free.

Peter ran a hand through his hair, "You heard the man."

 ***

You paced about the sparsely furnished loft space that belonged to Derek. There was yellow police tape discarded next to the entrance. A large window with no curtains provided most of the light in the open-plan apartment.

Derek tossed his phone on the counter, a sigh leaving his lips. "That was Scott. It worked. Now it's our turn."

"Do you think they'll make it out okay?" your voice was shaky, worry keeping you on edge.

"We can't worry about that now," Derek walked over and stretched out his hand expectantly.

You swallowed hard, a ball forming in your throat as you tried to unclasp your necklace with shaky fingers.

Derek squeezed your fingers, "Let me."

You spun around, focused on counting the number of bricks on the wall whilst he removed your necklace. His thumb brushed the back of your neck lightly and then he walked away to stash the necklace in a sealed ziplock bag, tossing it in a drawer for extra measure.

"And now?" you said after you had counted all the bricks on that stretch of wall.

"We hope Scott and Liam can take a few hits and stop any stragglers from coming our way while we..." Peter kicked his feet up and lounged on a leather couch, "Wait."

You stared down at the yellow tape, sorely aware of how tense the room was.

You did the one thing you hated doing in such instances, you made with small talk, "So… you still wanted for murder?"

Markus's head snapped up from his phone, nose no longer red. His attention was drawn towards Derek who was leaning against the kitchen island -his nose also no longer red.

" _Alleged murder_ ," he held up one hand to reassure your brother. "And, yeah, in four counties actually."

"Have you thought about what you're going to do if we survive this? I mean… you can't live on the run forever, can you?" you pressed your palms together tightly using your knees to keep from anxiously bouncing on your feet as you sat on the opposite couch to Peter’s.

"If we survive, that'll be just one of the many things I'll have to cross off my to-do list," he retorted.

Markus squinted before sitting up straight, hands clapping together once, " _That's_ why you look so familiar. You were on the news some months ago. Manhunt in--"

"Shh!" Peter shot up quickly.

"I hear it too," Derek said hurriedly as he vaulted over the counter and pulled you behind him, stake in hand.

Right then, an arrow pierced through his large window and shattered the glass. The sharp point dug into the wooden floorboard a few inches to the left of where you'd been standing.

_Here we go again._

"Okay boys," Peter cracked his neck before extending his fangs. "Once more with feeling!"

All three of them were all glowing eyes, long claws and wolfish snarls. You raced behind the kitchen island and ducked behind it for cover but no new arrows whistled through the air.

Just then, Astrid barrelled in in through the window, her nose raised high as she sniffed at the air, fangs extended. Her claws were longer than all the men's and her eyes glowed a deeper blue than Derek's or Peter's. Come to think of it, Markus was the only one in the room with red eyes.

Astrid clicked her tongue several times, one long-clawed finger swaying from the left to right, "I knew something was afoul when you weren't with the True Alpha and his rageful beta.” She turned to stare daggers at you, “Alyster will be pleased I found you and after I kill all three of your wolves, I'll deliver you to him." Her accent was heavy, Scandinavian. You realised this was the first time you'd heard her speak English.

“It is _your_ time now,” Astrid pointed at you, a grin on her face.

Peter laughed.

Astrid’s eyes twitched, "What is so funny?" she demanded.

"The fact you thought it would be that easy," he replied like he knew the punchline to a joke she didn’t.

Astrid took a step closer, her claws slicing through the air. Peter leaned back with perfect timing.

"Now!" Derek growled.

Theo burst out of a hiding spot holding a jar of black ash and chucked a whole fist full of it at a broken circle on the floor. An impregnable ring forming around them while the other men in the room tried to hold the rabid Astrid down. You dashed back to the drawer Derek had stashed your necklace in and quickly clipped it back on.

"Mountain ash!" Astrid screamed in anger.

Like a volatile typhoon, Astrid took on all three men, her long claws slashing deep and wide. Blood soaked through torn clothes and your ears were deafened by the piercing howls and deep growls that vibrated off larynxes. Markus lifted his stake when he got an opening, but Derek held his hand at bay.

"No!" Derek stated bluntly.

Markus stared in confusion, not about to let one of the people that'd nearly killed his sister survive.

Peter took the brunt of Astrid's attacks while Derek and Markus were forced in a stand-off.

"Get out of my way!" Your brother shouted, twisting his arm free from Derek's hold

"We need her alive!" Derek shouted back, replacing his hold with his other hand. “For now.”

"Can we argue about this later?" Peter spoke through bloody teeth.

"Rahhh!" Astrid shouted as she lodged her claws into Peter's side, a scream ringing out.

You gasped, taking a step forward.

Derek got distracted by the sound for a fraction of a second, but it was all it took for Astrid to sink her claws into his back and lift him up over her head.

"Derek!" you screamed as you rushed forward, body impaired by the force field of blue light that flooded your vision when you collided with the mountain ash barrier.

Derek spat out a splotch of coppery scented blood as she threw him onto the ground, hard. The sound of his jaw breaking made the floorboards shake. Markus wasted no time and imbedded his stake in her spine. Astrid screeched, dark veins rising up to become visible around her neck and temple.

"Omöjligt..." she whispered as she collapsed onto the ground. Her eyes still open and her chest still moving. He hadn't killed her, but Markus had successfully immobilised her.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck. No!" Peter panicked over Derek's bloody and sliced form. His wounds healing, albeit not fast enough. "What the hell were you thinking?" he glared at Markus with bared fangs.

Markus answered matter-of-factly, "Protecting my pack."

You whimpered when you saw black oozing from Derek's wounds.

That wasn't good.

"If he dies…" Peter whispered low and sinister. Then he snapped up at you and Theo when Derek grunted weakly, "Break the seal damn it!"

Theo broke the circle with the dragging of his heel and a wave of blue energy rippled out. Faster than you’d ever seen him move before, Peter carried Derek to his couch.

Upon seeing the blood and smelling the copper, your veterinary skills kicking in. You ran to Derek's side and steeled your nerves before slicing the knife across his shirt and exposing his chest. Peter slumped down next to you, eyes serious.

"Help me tie her up," Theo asked for Markus's assistance as he hoisted Astrid onto a chair, binding her hands in rope.

The black veins had spread and her skin was beginning to wrinkle and prune. The tips of her fingers discolouring to a dark purple as one of her nails slipped off from the crown with no opposition.

"Eugh!" Theo grimaced in disgust as he held back a gag. "Uh, man! I th- think she's- she's starting to decompose. Rapidly."

Markus blocked his nose as a new stench wafted through the air.

You could smell it too. It was so strong it made your eyes nearly water.

"Whatever magic keeps her alive, the root from the Nematon must be sapping her dry. You were right," Markus assessed.

"Whatever you needed her alive for, you better do it quick," Theo urged as his cheeks filled with air from a repressed gag.

"Fools…" Astrid spat, a tooth slowly dislodging from her blackening gums. "We can't die!”

"Yeah, well you aren't looking very alive either," Theo coughed out from behind his palm, trying to keep from breathing in her ghastly scent.

Astrid carried on, “One always takes our place. We’re divine soldiers. A champion must always exist as long as the _First Coming_ still lives."

“The First Coming? You mean the plague?” Markus pumped her for information.

Astrid huffed. She smelled like a gangrene infested wound, septic and infected, “The First Coming isn’t a sickness. She is a woman of unparalled power. Only her own magic can imprisson her. Only the blood of the tainted will keep her at bay. And when there are none of the _ex alia_ left, she will bring about the end of the world. ”

You ignored Astrid’s discomforting words and felt all over across Derek's back, running over the imperfect triskelion. Padded fingers forced black ichor to cascade out from circular holes torn through flesh. Derek's eyelashes fluttered in pain and all you saw were the whites of his eyes. He was too quiet. Too slack. It was unbearable to see him like this, but you had to focus.

You wouldn't let what happened to Alex happen again.

Not to Derek.

"Peter, get me a sharper knife and some alcohol!" You ordered while examining the claw marks more closely. "Markus get me better light. Theo check to see if any of Astrid's claws broke off her fingers."

Displeased, Theo tried to look over Astrid's fingers as carefully as he could, his face sneered in disgust as he held back more gags. When he tried to lift a finger up gently the interphalangeal joint came right off, skin and flesh peeling away freely.

"Eugh! Gross! They keep sliding off like… like fucking butter, I can't- It's too-" He retched dropping Astrid’s severed finger bit like he just lost at a game of hot potato.

Markus scrambled to collect every lamp he could find and place it closer to you while Peter arrived with the whole cutlery tray ripped out of the drawer. Peter unscrewed the cap off the bottle of scotch and held it out for you.

You took a swig and then another and then poured some over Derek's scraped back. Derek shuddered, but no sound came out of his mouth.

Unresponsive to pain, he was going into shock.

You pulled out a butter knife, doused it in alcohol and started digging around Derek's first cut, barking at Theo with authority, "You're just gonna have to deal with it, Theo! Just keep checking!"

Peter picked up the bottle of scotch and took a few swigs himself.

Astrid started laughing, her voice growing hoarse with each chorus, one of her teeth fell out and Theo winced, dodging the discarded enamel.

"Wait, you're right!" Theo shouted when he looked over her other hand. "One of her claws is broken in half! Among other things…"

"That's why he isn't healing," you bit down, resigning yourself to breathe only through your nostrils as you concentrated hard on your task. "I just have to get it out in tim- Shit!" You wiped sweat away with a blood-stained hand.

"What? What is it?" Peter leaned closer.

"I think it punctured his heart..." you stammered, more tears welling in your eyes. You chased them away with a loud clearing of your throat.

Peter dropped the scotch bottle, the glass shattering and spilling amber liquid everywhere. Then, leaving you with no time to react, he lunged at your brother and the two struggled against one another.

"Stop, stop, stop, stop it! You two can fight it out if he… dies. But not while he's still breathing!" Your shout echoed in the loft.

They all stilled, even Astrid. You returned your attention back to Derek.

 

You had cleaned Derek's wounds as best you could, but Astrid's claw had pierced too deep into his heart. You were afraid you'd simply send Derek off to a far quicker death if you pulled it out. Maybe that would be a mercy, considering his state now.

Derek's body was burning way past the normal temperatures of any human fever. Almost like he was fighting off an infection. His skin was damp and his wounds not yet healed –that scared you. You compressed his larger cuts with the rags of his shirt, but there wasn't much else to do but wait.

Wait and watch him die.

You sniffled several times, trying to keep from progressing to full-on crying. Your heart heavy and your stomach twisting on itself.

"Theo, go to Scott, you can do more for him there. Take Markus with you. He isn't wanted here," Peter said without looking up from his nephew's dying form.

Markus took a step forward, "If you think I'm leaving my sister alone with yo--"

"Go with him," you said softly, not looking up from the blood-soaked rag. "I'll be fine."

Astrid was getting worse too. Her skin had turned leathery now, as though she was mummifying. Her eyes dulled in colour as cataracts formed over her filmy eyeballs. She couldn't see even though her eyes were wide open.

Peter picked himself off the floor and grabbed Derek's stake off the ground.

"What are you going to do with that?" you asked with no emotion. You knew exactly what he was going to do, you just didn't want to go forward with something unsaid.

"I'm going to save my nephew," he said through gritted teeth and he moved over to kneel next to Astrid. "Tell me how to save him!" he barked in her ear. From the way she didn’t react, you guessed her eardrums were the next to go in her decay cycle.

Her head craned too far back, popping sounds emanating from her sagging neck, "You're too late. Kill me. Don't kill me. It doesn't matter. It's up to _him_ now,” one of her fingers pointed at Derek before falling clean off.

Peter growled before stabbing one of Astrid's bony legs under her now baggy armour.

She wheezed in pain.

Peter tilted his head to the side, twisting the stake in her tough, meatless leg, "Tell. Me. How!"

Astrid's jaw pulled wide as she tried to hold back a scream, a rip forming at the corner of her mouth.

"Peter stop!" You stood and pulled the stake out of her leg. "We aren't monsters."

His eyes flashed blue and he backed you away from him with a frightening snarl, canines chomping at the air close to your face, "That's where you're wrong. I _am_ a monster!"

In lightning-quick movements, Peter pushed the stake into Astrid's heart and her whole body began to shrivel.

Between straggled breaths from burst air sacs, Astrid raised her head towards the light of the full moon, a melancholic smile crossing her dehydrated face. With what little life she had left, she whispered words not meant for anyone in this room, "I det här livet och nästa. Jag kommer se dig igen. Min kärlek..."

Then her head went limp, falling to her deflated chest as the ropes slipped off her body. Astrid was no more and in her place was a pathetic mummified corpse steadily turning to dust. Then she was nothing.

Suddenly, and violently, the weather changed. The wind grew tumultuous, a horrifically sharp scream carried with it. In the distant, lighting struck down in unnatural and frequent bursts of light. Somewhere in the dark clouds, a tornado began to swirl.

You and Peter ignored the chaos happening right outside the window. The two of you were locked in your own personal pandemoniums.

"Pull out the claw," Peter said darkly, having made up his mind.

"It's too close to his heart. If I-"

Peter's nose almost touched your own. His clawed fingers wrapping around your neck to pull you close, "His condition is only getting worse. Pull out the claw. If he's going to die, it's going to be quick. Put him out of his misery."

You shoved Peter away, but you knew, deep down, it would be the humane thing to do. And now you knew you had definitely gone insane if you were agreeing with Peter Hale.

“You just had to make me say I told you so,” he said bitterly, a tear streaming down his face. “Just like your mother.”

You knelt next to Derek, trembling fingers grazing his paling flesh. As you wrapped your hands around the tweezers gripping the claw, you whispered in his ear, "You said it took someone of tremendous resolve to go through what I've been through and have survived. I also believe it takes someone of great resolve to go through what you go through every day and still have the courage to wake up every morning. I admire that about you. I believe you still have some fight left, Derek… and I need you to survive this… because… because I have a question to ask you."

With a solemn teardrop, you pulled the claw out of his heart and crumbled to the floor, palms pressed together as you and Peter held your breaths. 

An otherworldly green glimmer shone from inside Derek's open wound.

 


	15. ...I Give You My Last Breath.

**S** tiles was on edge. It didn’t help that Jonah couldn’t sit still for a single second.

Maggie was as calm as a clam… or was it a millpond? Stiles shook his head and started flipping through one of the many heavy books in front of him. Maggie had her nose firmly planted in a paperback novel. From the painting-esque design of a bare-chested man gripping the waist of a woman in period style clothing on the cover, it was most probably erotica.

“How can you just sit back and read romance novels at a time like this?” Stiles blurted out, his legs anxiously twitching. “Aren’t you worried? I sure as hell am!” Stiles looked over at Jonah who was trying to do a handstand indoors. “And why won’t he stop jumping around? It’s distracting!”

Jonah fell and took a glass vase with him. With a penitent expression, he gulped, swept the glass under a couch and sprinted for the door when he heard his mother shout his name from upstairs.

Maggie sighed and placed a bookmark between the pages. She was staring at him now, cold and calculating. Stiles was glad she wasn’t a werewolf otherwise he’d probably be scrambling for any sharp implement to be his weapon to guard against her chilling expression.

“You’re asking me if I’m worried for my soon-to-be-wife’s safety and that of her brother and sister while they’re miles away from us, fighting immortal killer-hunters on the basis of an unverified hunch that wooden stakes can kill them?” Maggie’s Irish lilt became stern as she asked patronisingly.

Stiles felt like a kid getting a tongue lashing from a grumpy aunt.

“Yeah?” he said, uncertain if he should have responded or just kept quiet.

Maggie’s expression changed drastically at the drop of a hat, a large grin sweeping across her face, “Of course not.” She picked up her book and laid back down on the couch. “Because if anything did happen to Esme and I was deterred in any way from having my dream wedding, I’d kill her.”

“Oh…” Stiles had a hard time closing his mouth.

From under his back pocket, Stiles’s phone vibrated. A bright smile came over his face when he read the caller ID as Lydia’s.

“Hey,” his eyes softened and stopped looking so wiry. “I’m so glad you called. I really needed a distra—“

“Not now Stiles, I have something urgent to tell you,” Lydia stated factually.

Through the video chat app, Stiles could see her face was full of concern.

He was almost afraid to ask, “What is it?”

“I know you guys said you cracked the whole how-to-kill-immortals problem, but being the curious person that I am, I kept looking into them and Chris –Argent– sent me a copy of an old bestiary he found in Paris a few years ago. There’s something you should know about the hunter’s so-called immortality. It’s… not good.”

* * *

 

Scott was pinned to the wall, fangs biting down hard to keep from howling in pain as the Kitsune from before flung him, Esme and Liam into the walls of the abandoned industrial building.

The winds grew murderous, spiralling like a cyclone. Dust and metal and brick shavings were swirling rapidly around them. In the chaos, Scott had missed whatever powerful act had brought Alyster to his knees –pain tugging at his sunken cheeks and hollow eyes.

Esme crashed straight through the wall, her eyes losing their vibrant blue glow as her claws and fangs retracted. She was knocked unconscious. Several hunters mobilised towards her, burdened by the strong winds but taking it in stride

 Liam’s shoulder popped out of his socket as he crashed into a weak wall, he whined as he tried to pop it back in. His efforts were painful and fruitless. Another hunter loomed over him and tossed him through a window. Liam yelped and Scott felt helpless. Scott’s ears heard Liam’s body crash on top of a car’s hood. A grunt coming out, letting Scott know he was still alive.

Scott was surprised he was still held in place by the strong wind currents, his legs dangling a few feet from the ground. When he struggled to get free, a ripping pain shocked his system from his midriff. Looking down, he saw a piece of rebar sticking out through his stomach.

“Shit!” Scott cursed as he braced his side.

The Kitsune –Kaze– was inconsolable. She was shrieking and shouting in loud bursts of unintelligible words directed upwards at the ceiling –at the moon. Her words were in Japanese and thanks to Scott having known Kira long enough for her to teach him some words, he could pick out small snippets of Kaze’s delirious shouting.

Kill. You. All. Gone. My Heart. Astrid. Dead.

_Astrid was dead…_

They did it. Peter was right. The stakes worked. Hope flooded his system.

_Maybe we can win this!_

Scott just had to wait long enough for them to send someone over. He just had to focus through the pain and keep his eyes open –

* * *

 

Derek was lost. The only thing around him was pitch blackness that moved and swelled like it was aqueous. He was almost frightened to reach out and touch it. His body felt sore. More than sore, it felt wrecked. Something wasn’t right. He wasn’t right.

Frantically he called out all the names of the people he knew like he was going through a list. Peter, Scott, Liam, Theo… Y/N. No one answered him. No one heard him. He was alone.

His toes felt cold, like frostbite before it set in. His chest and back kept constricting with every breath and his skin felt wet, pasty. Something definitely wasn’t right.

Out of the darkness, a silhouette of a woman started to form. White light cast behind it. She held out her hand with a smiling face. It was Talia. His mother. Looking just like she did in his memories.

“Mom?” Derek’s voice was uneven.

“Derek, my sweet, sweet, boy,” She cupped his face.

Derek sobbed, “Mom.”

She hugged him.

With great effort, Derek wheezed out, “I don’t feel right.”

“I know, sweetheart. I know,” she smoothed his hair.

Derek felt comfort seep out of her touch, “I’m tired.”

“I know. I know. But you have to keep going,” she pulled her head to look at him properly. “You’re a Hale. Hale’s never give up. You have to fight it.”

Talia placed her palm above Derek’s heart, it was then that he noticed how sluggish and weak his own heartbeat was.

He was dying.

“Find something to latch onto. It’s not yet your time. Fight my son,” She smiled up at him, pride in her glowing red eyes.

 Derek’s own blue eyes sparked to life. The aqueous black liquid that lined the moving walls around him began to vibrate, turning solid like fibreglass. Derek closed his eyes and took a deep breath until his chest felt like it was about to burst. He rummaged through his mind, trying to find something tangible, powerful, to hold onto.

Peter’s snide comments and tongue in cheek retorts rang through Derek’s head as he remembered them walking through the woods. Scott’s tempered and controlled expression turning to one of horror flashed through as the memory of Derek getting shot came to mind. The cold feel of a metal slab chasing way the warmth from his back sent shivers up his spine as he remembered the pain of a sharp implement digging out the invasive bullet from his healed chest. Metal dropping onto metal sounded out as the bullet cluttered into the petri dish as loud as church bells. And then… peace. Silence.

Like a radio signal growing stronger the closer you get to it, Derek heard the whispers of a voice. Not just any voice, your voice. You sounded shaken, afraid. Derek didn’t like that.

_" I believe you still have some fight left, Derek… and I need you to survive this… because… because I have a question to ask you."_

Derek remembered his own words from days ago,  _“It was a mistake, for me to have kissed you… in that way. I promise I won’t do it again. Not until you ask me to.”_

Derek opened his eyes, finding strength surge through him as his eyes turned so bright they were practically floodlights.

“Go,” Talia patted his chest. “Fight. Live.”

Derek hugged his mother tightly on last time. When he let her go, the glassy texture of the blackness shattered, a flood of light blinding him. After his eyes adjusted, he could make out the surroundings of his loft. Unafraid and sure, Derek stepped out of the dark recesses of his dying mind and walked into the land of the living.

* * *

 

You were barely breathing as your eyes stayed glued to Derek’s weak form. Peter looked utterly defeated beside you. His nails absentmindedly scratching at a rash forming on his arm.

“Come on Derek…” you whispered low.

Derek stirred, but his wounds were still not healing at the rate you would have liked.

Peter’s nails raked until they left long, tender, red lines against his skin. You thought he was merely doing it out of anxiety or as a distraction to keep from feeling fear. But then you noticed his rash started growing larger, twining in the formation of something familiar.

“Peter…” your eyes widened. “Your arm.”

“It’s just a rash,” he dismissed you without glancing at his arm.

You wondered if he was even aware of how harshly he was scratching at it.

“Peter I don’t think that’s a rash,” you warned as the bump on his skin moved like a serpent was slithering underneath. “Oh my god, Peter!”

“It’s a fucking rash, Y/N!” he glanced down and his eyes went large, his rash growing even larger, a symbol forming. “What the…?”

Derek stirred again and this time you saw his wounds begin to mend. The cuts and scrapes healing partially, leaving scar tissue as they cicatrized.

Instantly, the two of you ignored the weird rash that moved like it was alive and rushed to Derek’s side. Peter flipped him onto his back carefully. Derek’s eyelids fluttered open. A grunt leaving his throat.

“Son of a bitch…” Peter slumped onto the coffee table.

You cupped Derek’s face in yours and kissed him, relief and joy mixing together in an intoxicating rush. Derek’s lips were barely responsive, but you could feel his mouth curl up in a smile.

“You didn’t ask me,” Derek croaked out when you removed your lips from his. He leaned up with some trouble.

“I didn’t have the patience,” you replied with a giggle bubbling out.

“That’s the second time you’ve saved me from certain death,” he hummed, his words intimate. They meant something more than you could grasp at that moment.

 Derek looked over at his distraught uncle, “Relax, will ya? You should be happy, now you get to say it.”

Peter rolled his eyes, “ _I told you so_.”

Derek laughed weakly before standing from the couch, cold air rushing in from the storm brewing outside.

“Where are you going?” you and Peter demanded.

Derek’s body began to morph into a wolf state, this form was different though, you had never seen it before. He looked at Peter with a serious face, grabbed the stake lying next to the chair where Astrid had been tied up and made for the door. “Keep her safe.”

Peter didn’t fight his request, but you did, “Derek, you can’t –you haven’t healed yet!”

Your shout echoed and he was gone.

“Hey doc,” Peter rasped out as thunder rumbled outside. “Think you got something for this?”

He looked down at his patch of skin that was moving and twining and slithering into a knot. Blood was seeping from crescent cuts made by his nails.

You sighed, “I’ll get the scotch.”

* * *

 

Scott was blinking in and out of consciousness. The blood running down from his stomach made a pool on the floor. Liam had thrown himself back into the fray, dragging Esme from the clutches of the hunters who were a mere strike from slashing her throat clean.

Out of the blinding light of a lightning strike, Markus and Theo jumped out. Pushing back the advancing line of enemies in front of Esme and Liam.

Kaze was too lost in her own emotions to care for what was happening, her power was running rampant, destroying everything. Alyster had disappeared from the spot where he had been kneeling.

Markus tried to get close to Kaze, but the winds were too strong, he simply slipped away after a few shaky steps.

Out of nowhere, a black cat-like creature pounced at Kaze, its hooked claws tearing the skin of her throat. The cat-like creature was thrown by the centrifugal force of the cyclone and collided with the wall, letting out a screech. The fur and claws receded and under its animalistic features, Kate Argent’s face became visible.

As the winds died down and Kaze tried to stop the blood from pouring out of her neck, Theo rushed to Scott’s side and pulled him from the rebar that kept him impaled to the wall.

“Gahhhh!” Scott’s red eyes fizzled out to his normal brown. “Ahhh!” he gasped when he slumped to the floor.

“You good?” Theo asked hurriedly, distracted by the sight of Liam and Esme trying to hold their own on weak legs.

“I’m… Hnngg– I’ll be fine. Go. Help them,” Scott said through clenched teeth.

As Theo fought off several attackers, Alyster’s skinny frame came into view, the Oculus nothing more than a gothic-styled trinket gangling from a heavy chain around his neck.

“You killed one of my soldiers,” he was angry, but there was also disappointment on his face. “We’re trying to save you. Why do you fight our help?”

Scott tried to rise to his feet, but he kept sliding down. “Murder isn’t help.”

“It is when it’s the only solution.”

“Solution to what?” Scott demanded.

Alyster kneeled next to Scott, his knees pooping under his green robe from the simple motion, “Saving the world.”

Alyster’s long bony fingers caressed the Oculus around his neck like it was a lover, “Stand down, give us the girl and you’ll survive. We have no qualms with you. We only wish to keep the world safe.”

Just then, a shout resonated out. Kate had managed to hold Kaze down by the shoulders. Markus raised his stake for the killing blow, but the stubborn Kitsune blew them both away, bursting a hole through the roof in a final show of power. She stared up at the moon with the stake held at her breast, collapsing to the ground. She lamented, “Kono jinsei to tsugi no jinsei de. Mata ne. Watashi no ai...”

Alyster was shaken by those words, his head whipping in the direction of the kneeling Kaze who looked like a dishonoured samurai.

“Kaze…” he murmured but didn’t try to stop her.

The next thing Scott knew, Kaze was shrivelling to the ground, stake puncturing her heart as a single tear streamed down her face.

The other hunters were brought to their knees from the pain, like a hive mind, clasping at their chests. A chorus of groans and grunts filled the space.

While Alyster was distracted, Scott slashed his claws against his thin face. Alyster blinked the pain away and slowly turned his head to look down at Scott again. Sadness permeating off his scent. The three jagged tears healed slower than the last time they’d faced off. Losing Astrid and Kaze must have collectively weakened them.

Alyster sighed and stood up, his fingers locking into a half fist as green tendrils started slithering out from the Oculus. Scott tried harder to stand but he was still not up to the task.

Then, out of a blind spot, a black wolf lunged at Alyster and tumbled with him to the ground. Dark, almost coagulated blood dripped from a hole where Alyster’s throat used to be. A wicked smile on the red-haired man’s face. The wolf spat out the detached oesophagus and transformed into Derek, buck nude and covered in new scars.

Scott frowned, he didn’t know werewolves could scar.

Alyster’s throat began to heal cartilage by cartilage, muscle by muscle like a Tetris tower. His skin covering up the fleshy, pink hole that let Scott see the spinal column at the back of his neck.

“It’s over,” Derek said ominously.

A rivulet of blood fell from the side of Alyster’s mouth, his larynx regrown, voice coarser than sandpaper, “You may think you’re saving her. But trust me, you’re only resigning her to a worse fate than death.”

The immobilised hunters began to shake the effects of Kaze’s death from their bodies and reoriented themselves.

“Derek, now!” Scott warned him.

Markus grabbed the stake from the dust pile that used to be Kaze and threw it at Derek.

Derek caught it without looking away from Alyster’s pale face, “You’ve terrorised my kind for centuries. You went after  _her_. You die today.”

Alyster opened his arms invitingly, his head cocked to the side. “Go on then!” he jeered.

Fast and powerful, Derek stuck the sharp end of the stake into Alyster’s chest.

Alyster coughed, a haunting laugh rippling out.

“You will regret not letting me kill her,” Alyster said coldly. “And when that time comes, I’ll be there to watch you and the rest of your kind fall.”

Derek shrugged Alyster’s body away so he slumped onto the ground freely. The other hunters stalled, not believing their eyes.

Lightning struck and Alyster died with a smile on his face, the Oculus exploding into a thousand pieces. A shockwave travelling through the ground, carrying with it a dark foreboding sensation that chased the remaining hunters away.

Derek walked over to Scott’s side and helped him up, “Sorry I took so long.”

Scott chuckled, “You should probably put some clothes on before you poke someone’s eye out.”

Kate wolf-whistled from the column she was leaning against, “Now that’s a view I missed.”

“You came,” Derek said, no animosity in his voice. “Thank you.”

“Well…” Kate licked her lips. “I owed you.”

“Is it over?” Liam asked, his arm slinked around Esme’s waist keeping her upright.

Theo walked over to anchor Esme’s other side, looking around at the scrambling remnants of the hunters. They were frantic, aimless, like a snake’s body wiggling without its head. Their leaders were dead. They were scared.

“I think so,” Markus said, wiping blood from his cheek.

Thunder rumbled, like a finale to a long, exhausting concerto and with it came the first few droplets of rain.

* * *

 

You had spent most of the evening ignoring Peter's snide comments and morbid jokes, they had brought you no comfort and for the first time since knowing him, Peter had failed to distract you from worrying about Derek. Instead, you held yourself tightly, in fear you would shatter without the support of your arms to steady your shaking muscles, and looked out the large open window in the loft, shards of glass littering the floor.  

It was raining and the sky was blackened out by the grey clouds. Every now and again a strike of lightning would flash, thunder following suit. And every time you would jump from freight. The waiting was driving you crazy. You didn't know how much longer you could stand there feeling useless.

"Hey, don't worry so much. You’re making me feel anxious," Peter snapped, his rash bandaged by old gauze you had found in the bathroom.

"Well I am anxious!" You snapped back aggressively.

Peter went about trying to sweep up the broken glass and mop up the blood that stained the floor.

Another flash of lightning bombarded your senses, the sound of thunder rattling you to your core. The light was so bright and pure that it made you avert your gaze, your eyes aching from the subtle sting of overstimulating brightness.

 Just before the second cascade of lightning fell you brought your eyes up in search of where the lightning had first struck and then you saw Derek's otherworldly blue eyes staring at you from behind, reflected clearly on a jagged piece of glass still stuck to the window frame. He was wearing different clothes. A red mark marring the skin on his arm.

You gasped in relief and instantly flung yourself in his direction. He caught you effortlessly and practically crushed your body in a tight embrace.

He smelt of sweat and rain and his usual wolfish scent. You leaned into him, all your worries subsiding. His skin was like fire, the heat evaporating the moisture from the rain off his body. God, it felt so good to be in his arms. He made you feel safe.

“Is it over?” you asked.

“Yes, for now. It’s over.”

Peter sighed, “Oh, thank God! Did she show?”

Derek chuckled, “She did. Just in time too.”

You didn’t know who they were referring to and you didn’t care. You were safe, it was over and you were still in Derek’s arms.

“Kiss me,” you whispered.

He brought his lips to yours in a hungry kiss. It was rough and full of need. His sharp canines threatening to tear the sensitive pink flesh of your lips. His tongue sought after yours and deepened the kiss even further. His grip tightened around your back as he fisted your shirt, drawing it tighter around your front. Your nails grazed the skin on his nape leaving red marks in their wake, he let out a deep growl of approval.

"Are you going to fill me in... or?" Peter asked.

Neither you nor Derek looked in his direction.

Peter cleared his throat twice. Nothing. Finally, he sighed and at that, you could feel Derek's lips spread wider into an amused smile beneath your kiss.

"I guess that's my cue," Peter said. "You're welcome by the way. You have no idea how many times I had to wrestle her from the door to keep her here. A thank you wouldn't kill you, ya' know. Jesus, it's like I'm talking to a wall." You could practically hear Peter's eyes roll at the show of open affection you and Derek were putting on, you didn't care.

The sound of the loft door being pulled shut soon followed. Now with the two of you alone, Derek hoisted you up and carried you to the bedroom, never once breaking the contact between your lips.

 

 

From the moment Derek walked through the door the only thing he could focus on was your breathing, the wonderful sound of your racing heart and the smell of you.

As soon as you were tucked safely in his arms, your scent had filled his senses and nearly driven him insane. All he had been able to think about on his way back from the abandoned buildings was you.

During the kiss your scent had turned thick and heady, making every part of him yearn for you beyond words. You may as well have been Derek’s own personal ecstasy pill because, with that slight shift in your musk, the wolf within him had practically turned rabid with lust.

All he wanted to do, all he could think about doing, was ridding your body of your clothes and trailing rough kisses from your neck to your inner thigh. The sensation had been so overwhelming he had accidentally fisted your clothes in his clawed fists. His eyes had fluttered open in that instant and he caught a glimpse of your breasts straining against the fabric. The lewd picture had caused him to let out a growl of frustration.

“It’s okay,” you reassured him. “I want this.”

Derek growled again, but it was almost alluring.

It took every ounce of restraint to keep the wolf in check.

When Derek heard Peter's footsteps disappear into the elevator he wasted no time in lifting you up and cradling your body against his. He carried you in the direction of his bedroom.

Tonight there would be no life or death situations to keep you on the run. Tonight, Derek was going to show you just how much you had come to mean to him.

 

You laid beneath him, naked and bear. Your body writhing about like a snake, eyes fluttering between open and closed as you fisted his hair in urgency.

You let out moans of pleasure that rolled off your tongue in a beautiful lilt. Derek had never heard anything more pleasant in his life.

He was nestled possessively between you open spread thighs. The scent of your arousal was intoxicating, he was beyond rock hard as he pleasured you with his tongue. He lapped and suckled at every sensitive and swollen spot and you, in turn, mewled between satisfied gasps. His hands gripped your thighs open, claws threatening to protrude.

"Derek," you moaned again and again and again, to the point his name had practically turned into a mess of moans and unfinished syllables.

Your breathing had sped up to gasps and you held back your pleasured cries until they turned into long drawn out whimpers.

Derek was getting way too much satisfaction from pleasuring you, worshipping you. He revelled in the feeling of your thighs pressed against his face and her core twitching violently beneath his tongue.

The tension between his own legs was next to impossible to bear, to ease his delicious torment, Derek brought his hand to his cock and began self-pleasuring himself. Not too much to get distracted but enough to relieve the tightness around his stretched, veiny skin.

He wasn't at all surprised by the fact his head was coated with his pre-cum. He let out a pained groan as he bit into your inner thigh. You gasped and let out a shaky breath. Muscles spasming uncontrollably.

His fingers spread your lower lips further until he was in full view of her arousal seeping out of your molten core languidly. Hunger taking over, he buried his face back into your wet core and began to lap with wolfish fervour while the pads of his thumb began to rub circles against your swollen pearl.

"D-- Dere-," you gasped, words unfinished.

"Ah! I- I- I'm… Nggg!" you came violently against his tongue.

He could taste your climax, it was like he had just swallowed another ecstasy pill. The wolf howled inside him, it wanted to be free, to have its way with you, to make you his.

Derek clenched his jaw and fisted the sheets violently, the resulting effect left his satin sheets torn. You had been completely oblivious to his little outburst, eyes rolled back.

You were trembling from the climax rippling through you. You had forgotten just how long it had been since you’d been with anyone else.

Derek couldn't hold himself back anymore, you could tell from the heavy strain on his brows anymore.

"I need to be inside you," Derek licked his lips as he glanced down at you.

Derek stroked his erect member forcefully, the pain brought with it some pleasure and he moaned. He spread your legs wider and heaved them high over his shoulders. He then began to guide his shaft to your lower lips.

You were just beginning to come down from your high when you moaned at the contact of his erection pressed against your sensitive flesh. To prepare yourself for what was about to happen, you placed a death grip on the pillow and bucked your hips in compliance.

Derek bit his lip hard enough to draw blood and at your urgency, he began to slowly inch himself inside you.

 _God, he’s big!_  You whimpered as he inched himself inside you.

You felt the delicious sensation of his cock stretching you out. Your breathing hitched one too many times as did his. You arched your back and began to rock your hips back and forth to soothe the pain. You were spurring yourself on more. In reaction to your movements, Derek bit down on your neck, suckling the flesh till it was raw. He hid his moans of pleasure behind your bruised flesh.

"Oh! Derek," you breathed out.

Derek didn't say anything, he simply began to pull out of you. The pace was devilishly slow and you couldn't bear it.

"Faster, please, go faster," you pleaded.

Derek obliged.

Soon he was thrusting himself in and out of you at a much faster pace, the pleasure burned against your undulating walls. He was hitting you in all the right places and you were beginning to feel the spark of another orgasm taking root.

Derek's own breathing was strained and his brow was glistening with sweat knotted in a furrow of extreme concentration. His thrusts began to sputter and his hands kept clenching and unclenching at the sheets beneath you.

He was close.

"Y/N, I'm close," he strained.

"I'm close too."

"Come with me," Derek entwined both your hands together as he plunged into you one last time before you both reached your climax together.

His cum spilt inside you, hot and thick, filling you beyond what you thought was possible. You whimpered at the feeling. You had never felt so full and so satisfied.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he panted in your ear.

You giggled. Relief turning you numb and serene.

Derek had awakened something inside you, something you had never felt before. You kissed him as the waves of pleasure ripped through your bodies and tangled your senses in bliss. Derek flipped you on top of him, but was careful not to remove himself from inside you. You stayed like that, in each other’s arms, spent like rag dolls, for what felt like an eternity.

Both of you drifted in and out of consciousness as the last waves of ecstasy passed through you. You felt Derek finally begin to soften inside you before he picked you up and carried you to the shower, your bodies still connected.

 

_Epilogue –coming soon!_

 

 


	16. Epilogue: Cursed Sight

~

You laid in Derek’s bed watching the first glimmers of daybreak scatter over his velvet sheets. His mouth was parted slightly as he took long, drawn out breaths in his sleep. You hugged your knees to your breast, taking in the peaceful silence.

With the last of the hunters lost to the winds, you were unsure of what  _going back to normal_  meant.

Were you just supposed to go back to your newly-moved-in apartment and unpack the last few boxes you left on the floor? Then what? Spend the rest of your days spaying cats and clipping outgrown nails? Somehow the prospect of returning to how things used to be felt a little underwhelming.

What about Derek? He was still a wanted man in four states. Still a criminal in the eyes of the law. Was it safe for him to stay? Would he stay?

As you pondered your future, Derek stirred from sleep, a groan emanating from his chest.

“Morning,” you whispered over your knees.

He smiled at you, “Morning.”

He sat up to lean against his headboard, chiselled chest in full view.

You blushed, remembering the kiss in the woods and how sexy his glistening muscles made him look.

He splayed his arms wide for you to crawl under, the red rash slowly forming on his forearm identical to Peter’s. Scratch marks present from when he was asleep, digging his nails into his irritated flesh.

You tucked yourself under his strong frame, trailing fingers over the snaking flesh. You shuddered. It didn’t feel right.

Derek kissed the top of your head, chasing your worries to the back of your mind.

“Where do we go from here?” you asked, keeping your eyes trained on the growing rash.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, stroking the bony trail of your neck. “But I know I don’t want to go back.”

You smiled, “Neither do I.”

Something writhed under his skin and you started from the contact it had with the pads of your fingers.

“What are we going to do about this?” you poked his arm.

He dismissed it nonchalantly, “As long as it doesn’t kill me, I don’t care.”

You hummed in thought.

Derek seemed more carefree, less burdened. You felt deprived of this side of him, wishing you had known he possessed such calmness underneath his brooding façade earlier.

“You’re still a wanted man you know,” you reminded him.

“And you’re a vet with a clinic in disrepair,” he retorted.

“So…” you looked up to meet his green eyes. “What do we do about that?”

Derek kissed your lips, twining his fingers with yours, “I’ve actually been having this reoccurring dream.”

“Oh yeah?” you arched a brow.

“Mmm-hmm. It’s about us actually.”

“Us?” you felt comfortable saying the words, it scared you how normal it felt on your tongue.

Derek noticed how casually you said it too, it made his smile grow, “Yeah,  _us_. We’re always alone, just the two of us, with nothing but a map, a camping tent and two backpacks.”

“That sounds… a lot like my childhood actually.”

“That’s not the best part. Every morning we wake up somewhere new. And on the last day, we pitch our tent in front of this magnificent waterfall, surrounded by nothing but free open spaces and curious coyotes.”

“You had me till coyotes.”

A laugh rumbled from his chest, “They tend to steer clear of wolves. A hierarchy thing.”

“Ahh,” you said, drawing circles around his abdomen.

“How about it?” He asked, eyes peering into yours. He looked vulnerable.

“What? Leave Beacon Hills, disappear for a while to go on a hiking trip with a guy I just slept with?” you teased.

He rolled his eyes, “Hey, I’m more than a piece of meat you know.”

“I know. Not many people would go to such lengths to help a total stranger.”

“You’re not a stranger to me. I’m beginning to doubt if you ever were.”

“God! It seems like years ago that I pulled that bullet from right here–” you poked the spot that once looked mangled and bloody from a bullet wound.

Derek jerked, finding your touch ticklish.

“Well?” he asked again.

What he was asking of you was to be someone you weren’t. Someone spontaneous and adventurous and not someone who was calculating and a meticulous planner. He was asking you to take a chance on whatever warm feeling was spreading through your body right as the golden glow of the sunrise bathed your naked bodies.

The rational part of your brain was telling you ‘ _No!_ ’. Warning you not to be swept up in the moment like a hopeless romantic.

 _Be with him, but don’t put everything on hold for him,_  the rational voice said.

 _Oh, for once in your life don’t listen to her, follow your heart, be bold… give yourself a shot at being happy again. Lord knows you’ve earned it,_  the dying remnants of your fun-loving college girl years argued against the other voice.

You held his gaze for a long pause, trying to weigh the options. In the end, it was his unexpected kiss that decided things for you.

“What the hell!” you cast caution to the wind. “Yeah, let's go see some mountains together or some shit.”

“Yeah?” Derek was grinning now.

“Yeah!”

And with that, he rolled you onto your back and kissed you passionately.

On the bedside table, vibrating incessantly was Derek’s phone. Caller ID stating it was Stiles trying to get ahold of him for the sixth time in a row. Derek ignored the call and chucked his phone into his clothes hamper before he lowered himself between your thighs.

 

**~Two Months Later**

“Where to next?” you pulled out the map and placed it next to the lantern propped up on a foldable table.

Derek looked at the map then back at you, a cheeky smile on his face.

You knew that look. That was the look that told you he wanted to be doing something else besides plotting out points on the heavily marked map.

He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and bit his lip, “Why bother with ‘next’ when we can just enjoy the beautiful view right here.”

You glanced over your shoulder to look at the rolling hill ranges that spanned for miles and miles.

“It is a beautiful view,” you agreed.

He placed a kiss to your shoulder, “That’s not the view I was talking about.”

Heat flushed to your cheeks, “Ever the charmer.” You rolled your eyes.

“I’m only charming for you,” he kissed the crook of your neck, mouth sucking on the sensitive flesh until you were certain it would leave love bites.

You moaned, but then forced yourself to not be swept up in his incendiary touches, “Ah-ah, Derek. Map. Next destination. Focus.”

You chastised him with a playful smack and he huffed, “Easy for you to say. Focusing is the last thing I’m capable of doing right now. It doesn’t help that you smell like the wild –cedar and freshwater. It’s intoxicating.” He breathed in the scent around your hair.

God, he was making it hard for you to focus as well.

You cleared your throat, “Well you’re just going to have to reign yourself in, Romeo.”

“You’re so persistent,” he whined dramatically. “Okay, you really want a destination.”

“Yes, please.”

“How about here—“ he circled Beacon Hills with his finger.

“Beacon Hills?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot. Deaton’s finished with the repairs. I’m a free man again. Maybe we should think about taking this thing we got going back to a more permanent setting.”

Your eyes widened, “Are you suggesting…?”

“I’m saying I want us to move in together,” he said it so boldly you almost wondered if he knew asking someone to move in with him wasn’t the same as asking them to share a closet space.

“I’ve thought about it a lot,” he revealed. “When I’m not thinking of all the things I want to do to you.” He playfully nipped your earlobe before stretching back into his relaxed pose.

Your voice was torn between panicked and husky, “Living together is a huge commitment Derek, it’s not—“

“I’m committed to you, almost devoutly so. It scares me sometimes,” he laughed awkwardly. “Besides, aren’t we practically sharing a living space right now?”

Your mouth hung open. He’s got you there.

He sighed longingly, “Waking up next to you, sharing meals with you, fighting over which way’s East or West or South or… you get the idea. I want more of that. In a house or apartment, or loft even, just as long as it has walls, a sturdy bed and you.”

You giggled, happiness spreading through you.

His face turned serious just then, his hand taking yours, “I want those things with you more than I’ve ever wanted them with someone else. I—“

Suddenly his phone rang and Derek sighed, annoyance taking over his features as he looked at the caller ID.

“It’s Stiles,” he told you. “I gotta take this. It’s probably about him closing my case. If it’s not… I’ll kill him.”

Derek shot you an apologetic look and then crawled out from under your shared tent. You went back to reading the names of all the places you’d yet to visit

_Yellowstone, North Beach Campground, Crystal Cove, Derek wants us to move in together… Derek wants us to move in together! This is all happening too fast… Am I being paranoid? I mean… we are technically living together since we share a tent, but then again—_

Derek walked a few paces until he reached the crystal waters of the lake, with a lazy grunt he plopped down on top of the stony shore, pressing accept on his phone’s screen.

“Stiles, this had better have been important,” he grumbled, his frown baring down on his face for what felt like the first time in aeons.

“Wow, missed you too buddy, long time –how’s the weather over there? The mountains mountainy enough for ya?” Stiles retorted.

“I mean it, Stiles,” Derek warned.

“I was just calling to let you know you’re case has now been dead-filed. You’re a free man again.”

“I thought I was a  _free man_ weeks ago?”

“Yeah, but now its legally-filed-paperwork official with a stamp and a seal and everything. A public apology will be made by my department in a few days.”

“Okay then. Good to know. Now if you don’t mind I have something to get back to so…” Derek waited for Stiles to hang up but he didn’t. From the weird pause on his end of the line, Derek knew Stiles was fumbling to say something. “What is it, Stiles?”

“Have you told her yet?”

There was a pregnant pause, Derek looked at the odd, reddened symbol that moved under his skin on his forearm and then over to your happy, stress-free face under the tent.

“I’m going to. I just haven’t found the right time.”

“You can’t keep this a secret forever. Someone’s going to wonder why Peter had a mental breakdown and left for Kathmandu. What if that happens to you?”

“Peter is a drama queen. He’s fine.”

“But you aren’t. You know what that mark means.”

“I know.”

“And I won’t keep this from the others forever.”

“I know.”

“You’re one of  _them_  now.”

“I know!”

“Just… don’t carry this on your own. Secrets have never brought anything good to the pack. And yeah I get it,  _you know_.” Stiles hung up.

Derek took a deep breath, glancing over his shoulder to make sure you hadn’t heard his little outburst. He was relieved when he saw you fully immersed in the map laid out before you, a toothy grin lighting up your face.

“You should listen to your friend,” a raspy, unwelcome voice spoke. Derek was still getting used to the new voice in his head. “Secrets are dangerous.”

Derek turned to the source of the voice, seeing Alyster’s thin face and skinny form standing next to him. Dead and incorporeal. A supernatural hallucination reserved solely for him.

Derek snorted, “That’ll go easy over dinner. Oh, babe, you know that guy who was trying to murder you, murdered your boyfriend and almost killed everyone you've ever loved? Yeah, turns out he was right. Killing him didn’t mean he’d stay dead. Now he’s a voice in my head that I can talk to from time to time,” Derek sneered sarcastically before continuing on his rant: "I pretty much took his place. Don't worry though, I'm not alone in this. Peter's gone insane and secluded himself behind the doors of some spiritualist convent in Kathmandu. Would you like some bread?"

Alyster’s skin-crawling laugh trickled out making Derek’s neck prickle in discomfort.

“It does sound ridiculous when you put it that way,” a smirk stretched at Alyster’s mouth tightly. “But it could be worse. You could have Astrid inside your head instead.”

Derek ran a hand over his face and groaned, “Just… go burrow back into my subconscious and do… whatever it is dead men do when they’re trapped in someone else’s mind.”

“Wither,” Alyster said darkly. “We wither.”

A gust of wind blew in from the East, an odd sensation to it. Derek’s wolf instincts went rampant, he didn’t know what was making him so agitated. It was like a shrill, ultrasonic sonic sound had bored a hole into his head and lit his nose on fire. Derek tried to exhale the scent away in strong bursts, his hands placed to his ears to block out that painful noise. Nothing seemed to be working.

The rash on his arm turned solid, finally ending its repetitive cycle of writhing and wriggling. The itch had refrained. Then, after Derek was sure that he could practically hear the buzz of light’s frequency, everything shut off and his senses returned to normal. A stream of blood ran down from his nose and ears.

“What the fuck was that?”

Alyster’s face turned grave, “ _That_  was the  _First Coming_.”

 

**~Kathmandu**

The meditative instructor at the retreat sat in front of Peter with his legs crossed in the lotus position, a large statue of a praying Buddha was erected barely a stone’s throw away.

“Breathe in,” the teacher instructed the class. “And out.”

Peter repeated the actions, trying to silence the incessant ramblings of Astrid’s consciousness now bunking with his own.

“Du bör sluta slösa bort din tid,” Astrid said in Swedish.

 _I keep telling you, I don’t know what you’re saying!_ Peter shouted back in his head.  _And shut up, I’m trying to focus on my breathing!_

”And breathe in,” the teacher parroted. ”And now breathe out all your worries and stresses, feel them ebb away.”¨

”Oh, does my speaking Swedish annoy you?” Astrid remarked with bitterness. ”How insensitive of me. I’m sorry. I’m so terribly sorry. Would you like me to fetch you a towel for all that sweat? Maybe a glass of water with a slice of lemon? Oh! No, wait... I can’t do those things because you stabbed me in the heart with a stake!” Astrid patronised him, her voice so loud inside his head.

_You deserved it!_

Peter ground his teeth together in the hopes she’d be drowned out by the sound of molars filing down on one another.

”And now we’ll take in one deep breath and hold it,” the teacher said.

Peter held his breath.

Astrid’s pitch went flat, “All this breathing and more breathing seems to be working. I feel very relaxed here. Namaste.”

Peter saw her hallucinatory projection bow mockingly at the instructor's feet. Peter held back a laugh.

”Silence please,” the teacher chastised when he heard Peter’s breathy laugh.

 _Yeah, you heard him, silence wench!_ Peter mocked at Astrid.

Astrid rolled her eyes, “I  _was_  being silent. You’re the one who can’t internalise his laughs.”

_Whose fault is that? It’s not like my brain isn’t crowded enough already._

”I warned you my kind doesn’t die, you chose to shove that stake into my heart anyway. If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s yours,” she bit back.

”Keep holding,” the teacher said.

_Maybe if you weren’t a homicidal bitch!_

”Hold,” the teacher repeated.

 “Maybe if you weren’t a homicidal bastard!”

”And, release,” the teacher said serenely.

”Shut up!” Peter barked, startling the class. He scrunched his face and plastered on a charming smile, “Terribly sorry, I wasn’t talking to you.”

Astrid snickered with pride, “Yeah, tell them you were talking to a dead woman that lives in your head, go on,  _tell_  them!”

Peter stood from the cushion and bowed to the rest of the class, “I think I’ll be retiring to my quarters. Namaste.”

The entire class looked at him with wide eyes, all their voices quaking from shock and surprise, “N- Namaste.”

Peter rolled his eyes and walked away,  _We really need to set some ground rules._

“Don’t see why, I’m having a great time,” Astrid shrugged. “I’d rather be in your head, roaming around like some phantom than spend my eternity with the love of my life.”

Suddenly, a high pitched, nearly immobilising sound pierced through Peter’s skull like a hot poker. His eardrums vibrated so frantically he was certain they’d burst. An odd taste filled his mouth and he felt like he’d just swallowed a whole tub of wasabi.

“Gahhh!” he clenched down as he lost his footing and fell through a paper wall. “What is that?”

His claws started growing out of their own accord, eyeballs aching from internalised pressure. Then suddenly it stopped.

Peter picked himself up off the floor and looked down at all the blood that had soaked into his shirt from his nose alone. It was like a murder scene. One of his eyes went bloodshot.

Astrid’s eyes narrowed, her voice chillier than ice, “She has awoken.”

“Who?” Peter asked the ghostly woman, ignoring all the scared faces in the crowd clamouring around him.

“The First Coming.”

Out through the window, Peter could see a flock of birds swarming in a frenzied spiral, their cawing noises irritating his wolfish hearing.

“Well… fuck!” Peter spat the blood out of his mouth and stormed out of the retreat. “It was nice knowing you Buddha.” He threw a piece sigh up to the giant statue, his rash taking on the coherent form of an unmoving symbol.

 

~ **Below the Mother Three**

Worms wiggled out of the earth, screaming inaudibly as they left the solace of the rotting tree. Black mould had webbed across the ancient tree’s trunk like a mossy blanket, bringing with it a foul stench of decay.

Below the surface horizon, root tendrils began to shrivel and rot, turning into puddles of fermenting tree sap. Deep down, at the centre of the trees dying rhizomes, was buried a sarcophagus. A symbol harkening the end of days was chiselled into the stone lid.

Under the airless, lightless, soundless seal of the ancient casket was a mummified body wrapped in black cloth. The inside of the sarcophagus shook, tremors from the earth forcing cracks onto the stone.

Softly, painfully, a single breath was taken and the earth would never be the same.

 

_This story continues in:[ **Covet of the Wolf**](https://scribeofmorpheus.tumblr.com/post/187560068895/covetmasterlist)_

**Author's Note:**

> Don't be afraid to comment or leave feedback. I always love it when my readers talk to me. I promise I don't bite.


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